Queen Of the Machine
by Eren-get-in-my-jaeger
Summary: For Mikaela, being thrust into a Cybertronian body promises a life full of thrill and danger. Too bad that's already her nature. Sequel to "We All Fall Down."
1. Speed Demon

**Yes, yes, I know. I'm on a sequel-craze. But I couldn't help it! The ending of the last story….it was just bugging me, and I guess you lovely readers don't deserve to be left hanging like that.**

**Anyway, for those of you who haven't read "We All Fall Down"….follow along the best you can, but I don't guarantee you'll get certain parts. Obviously, Mikaela isn't human anymore….but that's all I can tell you. And, as always, don't forget to leave a review. Any questions you have, I'll be happy to answer.**

**I do not own Transformers. I also do not own the song "Shut up and Drive," which so graciously belongs to Rihanna.**

**So, without further ado…let the angst, drama, and romance begin!**

* * *

><p><em>Velocity: the speed at which something moves or happens.<em>

Driving across a rock-hard, dust encased terrain was the best sort of adrenaline rush Mikaela Banes could get these days.

She, unlike others, couldn't care less whether or not the billowing dirt got onto her paint, turning the armor brown. She didn't care whether or not little pieces of rock bounced up and got lodged in her circuits – Scalpel could fix that, later – for it just made the experience all the more realistic.

She needed something to do, something to get her mind off the previous weeks events. The former human had changed into something different altogether and she wasn't about to let the rest of her Decepticon "comrades" get onto her for wanting to get away, get out and be free.

So, she drove.

It was the best stress relief for a Cybertronian such as herself. She had chosen the area a few miles away from the nearest Decepticon base, a seemingly endless stretch of grimy flat land without a road or a town in sight. Nevada was almost prone to Mikaela's driving, for she had ridden at top speed through this particular stretch more than once, and she had found it to be the best place for a relaxing detour.

It was the best feeling in the universe.

She didn't understand how she had missed this. Being a human, she had only the luxury of two legs and two arms and she'd had to use those appendages, more than once, to prove herself. It had been deemed unsuccessful. But now, she was dangerous. People feared _her_. They feared her speed and determination and sheer ruthlessness...

Maybe she was being too full of herself. Maybe she had overlooked the facts that were staring her right in the face; the fact that all those qualities had backfired and left her an emotional wreck bent on revenge.

She blamed the download tech. Or, partly blamed the download tech. If it hadn't existed, then she wouldn't have been thrust into her new body. If it weren't for he download tech, she wouldn't have lost the love of her father. Trina Garrison would still be her best friend. Sam Witwicky, the only boy in the world who had seen her for _her_, would still want her. Optimus wouldn't hate her, but love her and take her as his mate.

And everything in between.

Being free was the only thing left, now. Though she was still listening to Megatron, still attempting to follow his rules, her spark told her that she was a neutral. Megatron's goals were the same as hers, and if it didn't stay that way, she would be gone in a sparkbeat.

She had told Starscream the same thing. He had yet to leave her alone, and she had yet to check up on his "evil rebellion scheme" that he would never put into play.

Mikaela laughed, the sound drifting from her speakers. Starscream was always a cowardly fool.

The dirt and dust trailed behind her like the tail of a comet, and she raced on, the hot sun beating down on her armor. She had changed her Nissan 350z model to something new – an updated version, of sorts – and she had jumped at the first chance to change the color. Out with the dull silver, in with the crimson finish that had turned her armor the color of blood. In the midst of battle, she wanted her enemies not only to fear her, but to admire her, too.

She had become quite vain in the past weeks, due to Megatron's prompt complements regarding how nice she looked, how lovely of a femme she was. Mikaela suspected that he was courting her once again, trying to rekindle an old flame lost in her processors. The previous inhabitant of Mikaela's body had been a lusty, sex-crazed Decepticon named Roadrunner who'd happened to have one to many "flings" with Megatron.

And she was still in Mikaela's head, feeding her thoughts and images, creeping into the very center of her being and, if possible, manipulating her spark into loving more than one mech.

Or maybe that was just her.

The speedometer was inching towards ninety miles an hour. It wasn't her best speed, and by sapping some of Roadrunners dormant strength, she could easily reach two-hundred. Her body, it had been built for speed and for speed only.

So, she pushed it. Her tires were spinning so quickly that, if gazed upon from ground level, would have appeared to be motionless disk set under and blurry vehicle. That was what she wanted, what she had been going for all along. Infinite speed. Infinite adrenaline.

"Faster," Mikaela breathed. "Gotta go faster…."

One-hundred.

It would take a while, but she would reach it.

"**Femme!"**

The voice, the sudden explosion of noise in her ears, and she found herself jerking her wheels to the side, sending the rest of her vehicle mode careening to the side, sliding across dirt and rock as if it were made of slick ice. The one motion caused a gigantic plume of dust to rise into the air, blocking out the sun.

Starscream.

Of all the mechs to interrupt her "Alone time," fate said that it just had to be _Starscream_. The Seeker was not on her list of favorite mechs, partly because he was annoying, cowardly, and had a knack for spewing insufferable crap that Mikaela could barely tolerate. But that was just the least of it. There was so much more too him, and Mikaela couldn't see it, which was probably on of the reasons she didn't want him around.

Unlike Megatron, she still couldn't read him like the back of her hand.

The mech thundered above, a streak in the air. Mikaela hadn't even heard him approach, for she had been so focused on the stretch of nothingness ahead, so focused on the rush, the sheer velocity of it all. She snarled through the comm link, righted her vehicle, and shot back down the route she had come from.

"**What are you doing?"**

"**What does it look like I'm doing?" **Mikaela replied bitterly. Starscream's voice was just a gnat buzzing in her audio receptors, irritating, but certainly not impossible to ignore.

"**Breaking curfew."**

Mikaela laughed aloud, letting the noise carry over the link. When she had quieted down, she said, **"Oh, my God….what is this? High school?"**

"**We are close to enemy territory, and Lord Megatron does not want his precious Roadrunner falling into the wrong hands," **Starscream paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. Then, **"You'd do best to head back to camp."**

"**That shitty hideout? No way. It's too crowded."**

Mikaela fishtailed, and then whipped around. In the air, Starscream's bulk was limited, and it took him several seconds to follow Mikaela's lead and change course. Of course, by then Mikaela had already shot forward.

"**It's the best we've got."**

"**We can do better."**

"**Enlighten me."**

Truth was, Mikaela couldn't. She had just wanted to shut him up, and she found herself mentally cursing Starscream for bringing the subject up. Megatron was cheap. That was all she could say, all she was_ allowed_ to say.

"**Look, tell Megatron that I'll be right there. I just need to finish up a few more laps."**

"**He'll have my head if I don't come back with you," **Starscream whined. Mikaela could feel his agitation as it rumbled through the comm link, and overhead, Starscream shot forward.

"**Ah, you've suffered worse. Shut up and take it like a mech."**

"**Easier said than done, femme. You haven't been on the opposite end of his wrath."**

He was right about that. Megatron could tolerate Mikaela much, much more than he could Starscream, and she found herself letting her frame shake with a silent chuckle. If she kept this up, she would be promoted as his second-in-command, and Starscream would be reduced to….well….

Nothing.

The link was silent, and Mikaela could tell that he was thinking. Letting out a sigh, Starscream began.

"**Let me tell you a story –"**

"**No!"**

"**Silence, femme, and heed my wor–"**

"**No more sob stories!" **Mikaela barked. A sudden noise drifted through her speakers, and she could tell that Starscream was getting ready for another round. Mikaela, though, cut him off.

"**Hey, how about some music?"**

"**Oh, dear Primus, femme….I…."**

The music poured out, soft, and then rising in volume, matching the tempo of Starscream's shouts and pleas.

_I've been looking for a driver who's qualified  
>So if you think that you're the one step into my ride<br>I'm a fine-tuned supersonic speed machine  
>With a sunroof top and a gangster lean<em>

Mikaela laughed. How extremely fun, this was, playing with him. She could fell the heat radiating off his frame as he dove lower, the flames spewing from his engine sending up more dust. And then, he peeled away, his shadow falling on Mikaela overhead.

"**This is no laughing matter, Mikaela! Do you even understand the situation I am in–" **

_So if you feel me let me know, know, know  
>Come on now what you waiting for, for, for<br>My engine's ready to explode, explode, explode  
>So start me up and watch me go, go, go, go<em>  
><em>Got you where you wanna go if you know what I mean<em>

She was being mean, and she knew it. But what was better than this? Speeding through the desert and tormenting Starscream at the same time? Christmas had come early for Mikaela, and she wasn't about to waste the gifts Santa had brought her. With a mighty roar of her engine, she shot ahead, out of Starscream's grasp.

He swore loudly through the comm link.

_Got a ride that smoother than a limousine  
>Can you handle the curves? Can you run all the lights?<br>If you can baby boy then we can go all night_

"**You'd better hurry up, Screamer, cause I'm not stopping anytime soon!" **Mikaela cackled.

_Cuz I'm 0 to 60 in three point five_  
><em>Baby you got the keys-<em>

Mikaela screeched.

Starscream dropped out of the air, like a bird of prey, landing in front of Mikaela's speeding form. The startled femme slammed on the brakes, her entire frame shaking, and then, in one final act of desperation, she transformed.

The feeling would never get old. Her parts rearranged themselves as if they had been doing it for eons – well, technically they had, but not in Mikaela's mind – and she threw her body out of Starscream's way, bouncing across hard rock.

When she finally came to a stop, the dust and dirt was settling around her, covering her motionless frame like a blanket. Her joints ached and her wires felt as if they had been dumped in acid, but other than that, she was fine.

She groaned as Starscream approached her, the sunlight glinting off his armor. He towered over Mikaela, his optics running over her, like a lion ready to rip apart its prey. Mikaela's feminine figure was trying to ease out of his hard gaze, and she found herself coughing and trying to expel dirt from her intakes.

"Should have stopped sooner, femme," he growled, jerking her to her feet. "Megatron will not be pleased that his prized pet was damaged."

"I'll tell him that it was _your_ fault," Mikaela winced, brushing dust off her armor. She wrestled out of Starscream's grip and faced him, head on. "He believes everything I tell him and you know it."

Starscream scowled and leaned down, matching Mikaela's height.

"Your time in running short, Mikaela," he hissed with sickening finality. "So if you don't want to be on the end of _my_ wrath, then I suggest you do one thing for me."

"What would that be, oh fearless and condemning Starscream?"

"Shut up and drive."


	2. Smash

"Welcome to camp loser."

Behind her, Starscream made a noise in the back of his throat that would have been a laugh, if only the dust and dirt settling around Mikaela's hadn't clogged his intakes.

What? She had a right to say whatever she wanted about the new Decepticon "HQ." If you could define a headquarters as a bunch of scattered, makeshift tents, a few crates filled with energon salvaged from old mines, and, of course, Igor.

Mikaela didn't know what he was. All she saw was a starving head scampering around like a rabid Chihuahua, producing strange noises that weren't anything close to a written language.

Real nice company.

After the Brotherhood stunt, most of the Decepticon's had scattered. Megatron still had tabs on each and every one of them, but he refused to call them back and assemble them all in the same place. Why? Mikaela could not fathom over the idea that fewer numbers meant less attacks, but still, when Megatron was being Megatron, you did not argue.

So, Mikaela's little "sector" consisted of Soundwave, who was always so avidly seated at Megatron's side, Laserbeak, the one bird in the universe that _didn't_ crap on Mikaela's hood, Igor, Starscream, and Megatron.

Some group. Mikaela was sure that Laserbeak and Soundwave already hated her, but she didn't care, for they stayed their distance and Mikaela was grateful for that.

The Nevada sun was hot, and now that she wasn't moving, the wind not buffeting her frame, she felt the heat, tenfold.

Behind her, Starscream's wings bristled. Megatron was sitting with his back to them, Soundwave just off to the left, silent. Laserbeak was nowhere in sight, but she could hear Igor raving loudly to himself.

"I love this place," Mikaela said loudly, sending up a puff of dirt as she took a seat beside Megatron's rigid frame. The massive mech titled his head to the side, a smirk playing across his lips.

"Sarcasm, I presume?"

"You're getting better," Mikaela replied, glancing up. "Next you'll learn when to take a hint."

Megatron rolled his eyes, and with a heavy sigh, pushed himself off the ground and sauntered away from Mikaela. The femme let her head rest against the one small patch of grass in sight, hearing Megatron behind her as he rummaged around for some energon.

"Get, like, a professional decorator or something…." She murmured. "We could patch this place up, you know? Make it presentable."

"Presentable for whom? Optimus Prime?" Starscream's sheer weight was nearly crushing the crate he sat upon, but he didn't seem to care. His gaze was focused solely on Mikaela, and it did not waver, even when she rolled over. "Sooner or later, they _will_ find us."

"And do what? Launch an attack?" Megatron barked a laugh. "You know that Prime only fights when necessary. Attacking at random has never been his play."

"Not until our little 'incident' with Fisher," Mikaela said, letting out a puff of air.

"Excuse me? _Our_ incident?" Megatron spun, his talons cupped around an energon cube. He said, "If I may remind you, you were the one who ran off, heedless, after the human. You were the one who caused Barricade to–"

"Yeah, yeah," Mikaela waved a hand. "I admit, I went a little overboard."

Megatron was silent, and then, he tossed Mikaela the energon cube. She caught it with nimble fingers, examined the blue substance for a minute, and then handed it to Soundwave, who gladly obliged.

Megatron glanced at her curiously.

"Not in the mood."

"Ah. Is something on your mind?"

Mikaela shook her head. "No. Not yet."

Off to the side, from his seat atop the energon crates, Starscream cackled loudly. He was shaking so hard that his chassis rose and fell with each beat, and Mikaela resisted the urge to stand up and slap him.

"What?" She said venomously.

"You miss him, you little glitch," Starscream's voice dropped, and silence fell over the camp.

"Starscream…." Megatron warned.

"Come now," he said, waving a talon. "We're all friends. We're all here to _help_," his sardonic expression did not match his words the least. "Tell me, has he been haunting you? You rejected the poor mech, after all. You must carry _some_ guilt."

Each individual word was like a slap in the face. Mikaela opened her mouth, but her glossa felt as if it had been coated with hot, Nevada dirt.

"Or are you like _her_? A heartless _beast_?"

Mikaela didn't see Megatron move. He was just a blur, a streak in the air, and then, the explosion.

It sounded like an explosion, the way he hit Starscream. Knocked him clear off the crate he was sitting on, sending him tumbling over the back, landing on his wings.

Mikaela heard something snap, and Starscream howled in pain.

"Megatron!" She barked.

Megatron's crimson optics settled on Mikaela, and that was when she froze.

She had never seen so much emotion in his optics. But it was there, clear as day, and she knew that he would regret meeting her eyes later.

"Get up, you little maggot," he snarled, his expression transforming into something different altogether. Rage. "Get up and go fly."

Starscream had to grasp the crates for a handhold, but in a flash, he was gone. Hobbling away on an injured foot, his wings twitching uncontrollably, as if the had been shocked.

Mikaela let her head lay against the dirt, hearing him transform, and then blast away, his form blocking out the harsh glare of the sun for just one moment.

* * *

><p>Megatron came to her late at night, when everyone was in recharge.<p>

"Starscream has yet to return," he said, sighing heavily and sitting down next to her form. "I haven't admitted it to anyone else, but the little bug _does_ have me worried."

"Don't let him be. He'll pout for a while and then come crying back," Mikaela waved a hand, refusing to look at him. In the darkness, his optics were the only thing visible, the rest of his frame concealed by the darkness. But Mikaela could feel him, though, could hear the constant thrum of his spark.

There was always a strange tug in her own spark when she was next to him. She had always regarded it as Roadrunner attempt to manipulate her emotions – the Decepticon was still at large in her mind, spinning away in there like a spider, snip, snip, snip – but she had never given any thought to whether or not it had nothing to do with Roadrunner, but _her_.

Mikaela. In love with Megatron. It just didn't work out that way.

Sure, it was an attraction. But it wasn't her attraction. Whether or not Roadrunner still loved her, or Prime, or both, she didn't care. Mikaela loved only one mech, and that was how she wanted it to be.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," she murmured, thinking back to the shock and agony on Starscream's face.

"I did what was necessary."

"One day, he's going to run and never come back."

"Like Barricade?" Megatron sneered. "I know Starscream. No matter how snobbish or proud he may be, he will _never_ join the Brotherhood."

"That's not what I meant," Mikaela murmured.

Red optics locked onto her face with the speed and precision of a homing missile.

"What do you mean by that?"

Of course he was wondering. The secret was bound to come out sooner or later, but Mikaela had hoped that Starscream would be the one to make the move.

_Revolution_. That had been the word he had used. Mikaela hadn't really paid attention to his "mutiny" speech, but she remembered darn good well that it involved lying, stealing, and much backstabbing.

But Megatron didn't let her answer. The way Mikaela held herself, her slouched position, Megatron seemed to get the message.

"Pah!" He barked, loud enough to cause Soundwave and Igor to both stir. "He wants to betray me, doesn't he? Build his own army!"

"Eventually, yes," Mikaela said with as much subtly as possible. "You knew?"

"I've _always_ know," Megatron lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Then why did you make him your–"

"Second-in-command?" The mech beside her leaned back against the stacked crates, lacing long talons together. "Seeker trines were rare, even on Cybertron. I needed an air-commander, and he was the only one available. He worked his way up."

"And you just caught on?"

"I'm an intelligent mech," Megatron replied. "As is Soundwave. We both have a knack for spotting the….firebrands in our ranks. I wasn't surprised by what I found."

Megatron was silent, as if contemplating over his next words. Then, he opened his mouth and gave a long sigh.

"But Starscream had made the mistake of letting himself get too acquainted with me. I knew him, inside out," Megatron grinned. "Starscream is keen and cunning. Courageous, at times. But courageous enough to stab me in the back while I'm occupied? Never in a millennia."

"Courageous?" Mikaela raised an optic ridge.

"Like I said, he worked his way up. Deeds were carried out. And in the end, _I_ was pleased. ," Megatron's shoulder brushed against Mikaela's, almost intentionally, as if he were hinting something. In the back of her mind, Mikaela could feel Roadrunner, the sly little femme practically begging for more.

"You should try it sometime," Megatron said softly, letting his head rest against the crate, offlining his optics.

"I already have, Megatron. I already have."


	3. Throwdown

Three days, and Starscream still had yet to return.

Mikaela could see the worry etched on Megatron's face, and though he refused to admit it, she could tell that the stress was starting to wear him down. It wasn't like losing his second-in-command was a small feat – no, it was a serious matter that got harder to ignore with each passing hour.

No matter how much she loathed the mech, Mikaela, too was worried as sick as a dog. The original group of three had been reduced to the dwindling duo of Mikaela and Megatron, something that was unnerving, at the least. The absence of Starscream's mad, screechy shouts caused an unsettling gloom to fall over the makeshift camp.

It was midday when she saw Megatron's dark silhouette against the horizon, pacing back and forth. She set down her cube of energon stood, back creaking, and went to join him.

As she approached his haggard, pacing form, she called, "You've really outdone yourself this time. Scaring your second into absconding? I even think _I_ could have done it."

"You're blaming me?" He said, though his tone wasn't accusing, just curious.

"I'm just saying," she watched his form with her eyes, the light shining off his silver armor in the most peculiar way. "He probably got tired of being beaten on all the time. Decided that he was better off alone."

"Who knows what goes on inside that head of his?" Megatron rolled his crimson optics, glancing up at the sky, as if he were expecting the Seeker to drop out of the air. "It could be this, it could be that," he paused. "No matter. I've already tried to comm the fool a thousand times, and he hasn't responded. If he wants to run and feel sorry for himself for a week, then let him. It's not like his services are needed, now that we have you."

It was flattery. Mikaela could tell by the way he cocked his head to the side, the corners of his lip plates twitching ever so slightly. And then, there were his eyes. Those deep, ruby eyes that held a ferocity, and intensity that Mikaela was unable to interpret.

"If he's not needed…." Mikaela said, "Then why are you out here, pacing around? Come now, we need you back at camp."

"I'm just gathering my thoughts," he replied curtly.

"Whatever," Mikaela rolled her optics and said, "I think it's because you're antsy. Restless. It's been, like, what? Three weeks since we attacked the Brotherhood? You haven't fought in–"

"Yes, yes, I know," Megatron waved a dismissive hand. "Three weeks. Twenty-one days."

"That's a long time, even for you," Mikaela stepped up to him, and then drew her long, heavy blade from the metal scabbard attached to her thigh. "You need practice."

"_I_ need practice?" Megatron met her gaze with mock respect, saying, "You, youngling, are the one who needs practice. Step back."

Mikaela grinned at her success. Due to Roadrunners seemingly vast knowledge of Megatron's flaws, she knew just how to tweak him the way she wanted. It was the little game that was keeping him interested, as well as the game that was keeping her alive.

His own blade was long, thick, enough to slice Mikaela into three pieces, if he wanted to. In other words, it made her nervous, staring at the same weapon that had ended Optimus Prime's life so many years ago.

"What did _he_ teach you?" Megatron asked her, skipping away lightly on the soles of his pedes. A hint of malice laced his words, and Mikaela was sure he wouldn't like her answer.

"Optimus?" Mikaela shrugged. "Oh, the basics. It was mostly Ironhide, though."

"_That_ buffoon?" Megatron shook his head, disgusted. "He knows nothing. Take a stance. Now."

Mikaela replied by placing one foot forward, the other easing back.

"Adequate."

He initiated the first attack, and writhing the span of a second, Mikaela found herself thrust forward at an awkward angle, the tip of his weapon pressed against her neck, tugging at the wires and tubes. She made a noise of irritation, and Megatron released.

"That was hardly a challenge."

"To you," Mikaela replied bitterly. "I haven't had as much practice."

"You can blame Prime for that," he responded, and Mikaela refused to meet his eye, afraid of what she would find. Instead, she lunged first, swinging her weapon towards her thigh, an attack that was proven futile, for he simple blocked her swing and kicked her back with his foot.

She fell to the ground, crushing long dead cactus's and kicking up dirt. Coughing, she righted herself, and saw Megatron shaking his head, as if she were a small child in need of scolding.

"Get up and try again."

She did. This time, he attacked her, and she, in an act of desperation, flailed backwards. He took two thundering steps, sun glinting off his polished armor. Mikaela swung, but her sword passed along the length of her body, barely grazing him. He batted it away, leaving her chassis exposed.

The quivering blade stopped an inch from her spark.

"This is bullshit," she snapped, shoving the blade away.

"To what extent? You baited me into training you, and I am doing all I can," he pulled his arm away, anger flickering in his ruby optics. "What else do you want?"

A shadow passed across Mikaela's face, and she shook her head, stepping back a few yards and preparing herself for another onslaught. She said, "I just….never mind. Come on, then, lets get this over with."

His eyes narrowed, but he did not protest. "Very well."

Their swords met, Mikaela grunting and trying to push him off. But, with a casual swipe of his foot, he sent her tumbling across the ground.

Match after match they fought, until Mikaela's once shining armor was caked with dirt and dust and pieces of crushed cacti. They dashed themselves until their was barely anything left – no thoughts, no feelings, just the thrill of the fight and the fact that they both acknowledged each others determination. Neither of them asked to end their contest, and none of them offered to.

It was only until Mikaela found herself pinned under Megatron, his full weight pressing into her stomach, the glowing end of his blade pressed against her throat, did she sense the presence of another mind lurking in the shadows of her subconscious. Roadrunner had yet to make an appearance since the Brotherhood attack, and for that, Mikaela had been grateful….

But now? She could use a little foreign support. As Mikaela's "mindmate", Roadrunner felt that she had a certain obligation to intervene and provide advice on everything Mikaela did.

_You were sloppy on the last one, _she said.

"Tell me something I don't know," Mikaela murmured, getting to her feet, keeping a wary eye on Megatron.

_He keeps pinning you. You must think smart, Mikaela! Find his weak spots, exploit them!_

_It's harder than you think, _she replied angrily, a joint in her knee creaking painfully as she and Megatron circled each other like battling wolves, fortitude the most evident expression on their faces.

_The back off. Don't pursue something you know you cannot reach, _Roadrunner paused, and then, in a saddened tone, said, _That's how I was ended._

_I doubt it._

Mikaela parried a blow from Megatron, and then threw herself to the side. She was smaller than he was, and lighter, as well. Her curved, feminine features allowed her to twist and bend in ways Megatron could not, and that, in itself, was an enormous advantage.

She spun away from his grip and blocked another blow. He was getting irritated, she could tell, by the way his lip plates were curled back over his sharp fangs and the way he growled, like a lion.

"Getting some advice, I presume?" He tapped the side of his helm. "I know what goes on up in here,_ Roadrunner_. I cannot be fooled."

She threw herself out of his way as he charged her, heedless, like a bull. He barely had time to turn his head before Roadrunner was on him, sidling him up and taping his neck, gently, with the tip of her sword.

"Gotcha."

"Be proud, femme," he whispered. "Not many have managed to best me like this."

_Except for Witwicky, _Roadrunner muttered.

_True that._

"Again."

They sparred once more, the battle seeming to drag out into several section – one, where Megatron was actually_ rolling_ on the ground, Mikaela having pounced upon his shoulders like a rabid cat – and several attempts to nick the other, at least once. With Roadrunner present in her mind, feeding her tactics and moves, Mikaela was, once again, able to deftly dodge a swing from Megatron's sword and slide up to him, shoving his outstretched hand away and touching her blade up under his chin.

Optics met. Megatron's gaze was not wavering, crimson orbs trained on Mikaela's triumphant expression.

"Gotcha again."

"You got lucky," he did not move, but let her stay, blade pressed against his throat.

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say," she spun away and sheathed her sword. Darkness was falling over the horizon, the sun beginning to set. In the sun's glow, Megatron's armor was outlined in orange.

It made him look…..

No. Beautiful couldn't be the word, certainly not to Mikaela.

_Oh, come now, _Roadrunner chimed in as Megatron turned and began to walk back to camp, swinging his sword in one hand, leaving Mikaela in the dust. _You know you want to admit it._

_Shut. Up._

And with that, Mikaela turned, and began to trudge back to camp.


	4. Vegas Bound

"Any word?"

Mikaela shook her head. She had told herself that under no circumstance would she believe that Starscream's sudden disappearance would become permanent, but now, as she gazed worriedly into Megatron's crimson optics, had become inevitable.

He was gone. When she had tried to comm him, all she had gotten was static.

"I've sent Soundwave out to search the desert. He should be returning shortly." Megatron gazed out at the endless terrain of dirt and rock and shook his head sadly, turning to Mikaela and saying, "As if that will do us any good."

"What about his signal?"

"Nonexistent," Megatron pinched the bridge of his nose, making a noise that sounded more like an irritated lion than a distraught sigh. Mikaela could see the scars and lines etched into his face, giving him an almost frightening, yet ancient look. "I fear the worst."

"Be optimistic for once."

"It's more difficult than you think. Starscream's disappearance is most troubling…."

"You know," Mikaela pursed her lips. "For someone who hates Starscream, you seem awfully concerned for his well-being…."

"He is a necessity. He is the only other flier other than me," Megatron said. "And even then, he, unlike me, was built for flying. I hate to admit it, but in the air, he and I would be of equal strength."

Mikaela nodded, and crossed her legs, one long finger tracing patterns in the dirt. She was trying to let her mind wander to things other than Starscream – which was practically an impossible thing to do – and she had found herself pulling up Trina's face.

Megatron would continue his plans with or without Starscream. He would have to be more…._involved_ with their activities, but Mikaela didn't doubt he would be able to pull it all off. They still had one scheme, one more trick up their metaphorical sleeves, and Mikaela knew that Starscream's absence would not affect it one bit.

Mikaela buried her head in her hands and gave a low sigh.

"What are you thinking about?" Megatron asked her softly, sitting down in the dirt and running a talon down her back. Lovingly, as if he were caressing a small child, but not enough to make Mikaela believe that he actually, genuinely _cared._

"How we can pull this off."

"I can provide the air support we'll need," Megatron removed his hand, as if realizing that since Mikaela's anxiety was over such a small matter, she didn't deserve the affection.

"It's not that…."Mikaela looked up. "I mean, we're going after one of the richest men in the world…."

It all sounded crazy, coming from her, but it was all true. Through observations and information from other…tedious resources, Mikaela, Megatron, and Starscream had invented – or imitated – a way of concealing themselves from the world, N.E.S.T. included. It wasn't something Mikaela enjoyed, but she had to admit, company-jacking, as Starscream had dubbed it, could and would pay off.

All they needed was a victim of sorts. Fisher was Barricade's sponsor, hiding him from any imminent danger, and in return, Barricade was loading him up with the latest Cybertronian tech. It was something they intended to do, but with vastly different terms.

They, for one, were not going let Garrison use their resources, their energon, and their _technology_, to bribe Congress into passing a bill that would exile the Autobots from Earth. The idea was despicable to Mikaela, and she doubted Megatron would have the guts to bring it up in front of her, much less go along with it.

"It's a foolproof system," Megatron grunted, snatching a cube of energon from atop a nearby crate. For a moment, the only sound wave the gentle flap of flying fabric as the wind buffeted the feeble tents they had attempted to make.

"It's also illegal," Mikaela pointed out. "N.E.S.T. could catch us. Hell, _anyone_ could catch us, and we'd be in trouble."

"Then it's best that we _don't_ get caught."

Mikaela narrowed her eyes. "Screw you."

"Anytime."

* * *

><p>"The banquet is <em>where<em>?"

"Las Vegas, Nevada."

At first, Mikaela thought that her audio receptors were malfunctioning. But as she looked into Soundwave's cold optics and saw that he was incapable of making any sort of joke, she knew that what he had said was, indeed, the truth.

She would have to bag and drag Jude Garrison in _Vegas_.

She mentally punched herself. She should have _so _seen that coming. From his profile, he was a partier. He loved to bask in the admiration of huge crowds.

_Now_ she understood where Trina got it from.

That was the issue – Trina. Soundwave had deftly hacked into the online guest list and pulled up her name, much to Mikaela's horror. Just thinking about the agony she had caused Trina in the past few weeks was almost too much to bear, and she knew that if she were to see Trina, she would break, and vice-versa.

"Oh, quit whining."

"Put yourself in my place," Mikaela replied bitterly, standing up. "You have a friend who you care about–"

"I don't understand the value of friendship, but rest assured, if I did have any friends," Megatron's lip plates curled into a nasty sneer. "They would certainly not be humans."

"You just don't understand the species. I told it to Starscream, and I'll tell it to you. Your arrogance will be your downfall."

"That's what they all say."

"You forget," Mikaela rounded on Megatron, hands on her hips, "That it was a human who killed you during the Mission City fight, and a human who killed Blackout."

"A mistake that I do not intend to make again," Megatron's said, his voice heavy with regret. He looked up at the twinkling stars. "Plus, that was the past….."

"….and the past is irrelevant," Mikaela murmured, going to pop open the cap on a tub of energon, hesitating when she saw Megatron's lingering eye.

"Want one? You look like you need it," she asked him, but he shook his head.

"There are far more important matters to attend to. We have yet to find Starscream, and the one opportunity we have to capture Garrison is looming over us, like an angry storm cloud. We must act."

"Send Laserbeak," Mikaela said, shrugging.

"Oh, no. He is not built for these sort of missions."

"You go yourself, if you're so eager."

"I, for one, have already attracted enough attention," Megatron's crimson optics flickered with annoyance, but he was able to continue. "My alt mode would not be appreciated, anyway."

Mikaela rolled her eyes. She had tried, but, ultimately, there would be no avoiding it.

She would have to do this herself.

"Fine, whatever. If you guys don't want to get your hands dirty, then just leave it to the femme."

Megatron ignored her, saying, "Roadrunners specialty is stealth and deception. She should be able to instruct you throughout."

"Goodie for me."

"You will, though, have to make some….minor adjustments to your holoform," Megatron tilted his head to the side, as if contemplating of something. He knelt down, one massive knee supporting his weight, drawing a diagram in the dirt with one long, sharp talon.

"The location?"

"Bravo Hotel. Right in the heart of the city," Megatron looked up, ruby orbs flashing dangerously. "There will be no playing, no gambling, no indulges yourself on any pointless pleasures, do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear. And if I see…."

"The Garrison female?" Megatron brushed a leaf off his armor. "She should not even recognize you, with your holoform and all. Please, Mikaela, do you still think that even if she did acknowledge who you are, that she would speak to you?"

_Yes, _she wanted to say, but she kept her lip plates firmly glued together. If there was one thing a Garrison was good at, it was not letting their rage go unsatisfied. Mikaela didn't know how major a modification her holoform was to undergo, but she prayed that it would be enough to fool Trina.

If not, then she would have to do what she did best: Improvise.

"This will work," Megatron murmured. "Mark my words. If a human could pull it off without so much as a flaw…then we should be able to do the same thing."

"But _better_," Mikaela added with a grin, watching Megatron stand to his full height, his massive frame blocking the glare of the moon.

"You've finally gotten it. After so much pounding and groaning, its finally settled into your thick processors," Megatron responded, tapping her on the helm as if she were so dog in need of constant admiration. Mikaela didn't mind it, though. In Starscream's absence, she was winning favors with him.

She wondered how long that would last.

"We move out tomorrow," he paused. "I just hope that my plan lives up to her standards," Megatron was suddenly next to her, his lip plates inches from her audio receptors, his hot breath sending shivers down her back. All subtlety abandoned, Mikaela gulped and gently pushed him away, flinching when he said, "What do think, O' ever so endearing and skeptical Roadrunner?"

Roadrunner's reply was short and clipped, and as Megatron sauntered away, Mikaela called after him.

"She says, _Viva Las Vegas, bitch_."


	5. Changing Tides

Las Vegas was a zoo at night.

Mikaela knew what to expect, though. She had been to New York, and just about every other place you could think of. Nighttime was always the right time, and the same went for Vegas.

But Bravo Hotel was a different story altogether. It was fancy, gigantic, and _crawling_ with humans. Mikaela hadn't realized that so many people were attending the banquet – she blamed that on her own incompetence, for she had forgotten to actually check the numbers on the guest list – but still she had been able to sneak in, unnoticed, parking on the curb behind an expensive Mazda. She blended right in, with her flashy ruby red armor. Even with the new upgrades, she was still a little worried that someone might notice her, then she shoved the thought to the side. Humans always seemed to overlook things that were right in front of their noses.

Mikaela switched off her engine, the long, pale, bony fingers of her holoform still gripping the steering wheel. Staring out the windows, she saw the guards at the top of the stairs, greeting guest and they walked inside. All of them were dressed for the occasion – the guards excluded – and none shot a glance in Mikaela's direction.

She opened the door, the soft breeze ruffling her dress. Her holoform was that of a middle-aged woman, long, thick red curls brushing her shoulders. Her features had been corrected, her nose now shorter, her lips fuller, eyes a sparkling azure.

As she looked at her reflection against the glass of her alt modes window, she grimaced. Though it was only a shell, she still felt that eerie, foreign feeling, like when she had first been getting used to her new body.

Her golden dress wasn't as striking as some of the others, for she was only posing as a wealthy endorser instead of a multimillionaire, like some of the people present.

She began to walk up the steps, the flashing neon lights from the signs above causing the small sequins on the sleeves of the dress to sparkle. Already, she felt exposed and vulnerable as she approached the guards, lightly flipping her red hair.

"Name?"

"Alexis Holbrook," Mikaela said. The name had been drilled into her processors again and again by Megatron, and on one instance, Soundwave.

The guards flipped through his list, and then he let her through. In her mind, Mikaela sent a thanks to Soundwave for getting her on the list in time.

Inside, the place was even more crammed. Drinks lined the tables and the chandelier overhead was massive, enough to light every room in Mikaela's own house.

No one noticed Mikaela slipping in, the soft click of her heels and her labored – yet fake – breaking inaudible through the sounds of soft classical music and chatting humans. She had barely made it to a corner, snagging a drink just in case someone noticed she wasn't being social, when a soft ping sounded in her ear.

**"Status report, femme. Where are you?"**

**"I'm in."**

**"Did you have any trouble with the guards?" **

**"Nope," **Mikaela tried to sip the drink, and then gagged, spitting it back into the glass. She swirled it around, eyes darting across the room. She had yet to see Jude. Or anyone else familiar, for that matter.

**"Good. Just…." **Megatron trailed off, and then he sighed. **"Try not to be like Starscream. Try to at least do something right."**

**"Starscream's done some good for you, and you know it. Stop dissing him all the time and get your head in the game," **Mikaela couldn't help the bitterness as it crept into her tone. **"This isn't about him, its about Garrison. _Both_ of them."**

Megatron didn't reply, and for that, Mikaela was grateful. She began focusing on each guest, pulling up pictures of Jude Garrison inside her processors and trying to match them with the faces of the party guest.

It didn't take long to spot him. He was in the center of the room, engrossed in a conversation with another man, close to her father in age, with a drink in hand. Mikaela didn't even have to match a picture, for he looked so much like Trina. Same curved nose, same cheekbones, same pale complexion. His hair was the only feature not parallel, but that was due to the fact that Trina, as outgoing as she was, changed her hair color almost every other day. Mikaela couldn't remember a time when it wasn't a deep red or a popping yellow.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Mikaela's mouth, and she touched the rim of her glass to her lips, pretending to take a drink.

Instead, she sputtered.

In her recollection, she had barely missed the _real _Trina sliding into one of the bars, speaking promptly to the bartender, and then taking a seat.

She looked bizarre. But in a good way.

Mikaela had never seen Trina dressed for anything other than therapy. But now, she had lost the conspicuous makeup and looked suspiciously thinner – almost gaunt, in a way. Her long fingers were rapping away at the table, each accessorized with a ring. Her dress, which was much, much more appealing than Mikaela's, was black, brushing her knees. Black, with one sleeve hugging her wrist and the other hugging her shoulder. She had changed the color of her hair once more, and this time, it was short down to her ears and streaked with red, green, and a hint of blue.

She looked grabbed a bottle of champagne and took a long swig, much to the bartenders annoyance.

Mikaela felt her throat go dry, an uncommon feeling for a Cybertronian. It felt as if someone had punched her in the chest, and she felt her grip on her glass tightening as she surveyed the girl that _used_ to be her friend.

Maybe she could….

**"Mikaela!"**

Mikaela jumped, swatting at her ear.** "Sorry. I…I saw…"**

**"Yes, yes, we know. The Garrison girl. I suspected that she might be present."**

**"Oh, did you, now?" **Mikaela hissed, easing back into her chair as Trina hopped off the barstool and walked over to her father.** "Thanks for the heads up, boss!"**

**"It is out of my hands whether or not–"**

**"Whatever. I got this under control, alright?"**

Megatron disappeared, leaving Mikaela to deal with Trina and….and…who was that walking up to her now, shaking hands with her father.

No.

No way.

Impossible!

**"Um….Megatron?" **Mikaela said softly, a fingers brushing strands of hair away from her ear. **"I stand corrected. I don't know if I have this under control or not…."**

**"What? What is it?"**

"Fisher," Mikaela breathed aloud, and then sent the message to Megatron, as well as Soundwave.

Silence.

Mikaela resisted the urge to dive behind a table as the man turned, his gaze seeming to cut through the room and settle on her. He was dressed the best, and as he adjusted his tie, Mikaela had to remind herself that he had yet to see her new holoform. He wouldn't recognize her. Surely, if she could get a voice mod and change the pitch of her voice, he wouldn't know that it was the same femme that had tried to kill him a few weeks earlier.

**"He wasn't on the list!" **Megatron's shrill cry cut through Mikaela's grim attitude. **"Soundwave checked! His name was _not _on the list!"**

**"Well, it is now!"**

**"I can see that," **Megatron sounded agitated, and a little worried. Fisher meant Barricade. Barricade meant bad things, injuries, and explosions.

**"Then do something!"**

**"Like what? I am not a fairy, Mikaela, I cannot just whisk myself to your location whenever the time comes. It would be best that you not attract attention. Get Garrison alone – and I mean _one_ Garrison – subdue him, and then retreat."**

**"Any other ideas?"**

**"Do not make _any _contact with Fisher, or Trina Garrison. I will meet you at the outskirts of the city."**

He disappeared as soon as Mikaela set her gaze on Trina. Her father had left, leaving her alone with Fisher, and the way she twisted her mouth and fingered the cap on the champagne bottle….Mikaela had seen that expression on her many times. She looked….flustered. Embarrassed. Red tinged her cheeks and she looked at the ground as Fisher spoke to her once more.

It occurred to Mikaela that Fisher had never seen Trina before. He had no idea who she was, or what she stood for. As Mikaela inched from her corner and sat on the barstool, a little ways away from the duo, she began to pick up their conversation.

"…..You know, as an avid endorser of your father's campaign, I must say….he didn't _once _mention that he had such a _lovely _daughter."

Mikaela wanted to gag. Fisher was flirting, and Trina didn't seem affected. Good for her.

"Yeah. He doesn't mention a lot of things," Trina finally popped the cap of the bottle and took a long swig. "But at least he's not batshit crazy, like some of the people he collaborates with."

Mikaela snorted, and the bartender shot her a look.'

"Indeed," Fisher scratched the back of his head, clearly flustered, if not a bit annoyed. "So, tell me, what sort of job do children your age have these days?"

"Therapy."

"Ah. A prospering career. I, for one, am a passionate collector."

"Of what?" Trina asked, and sipping her champagne again. She capped it, cocked a hip to the side, and gazed at Fisher.

"You heard about the attack on my headquarters a few weeks ago? Such a tragedy," Fisher shook his head. "But we were able to rebuild, just as my interest for the alien civilization took root. I've already managed to snag one of their kind."

"Which faction?"

"Does it matter?" Fisher spread his arms out wide. "Miss Garrison, you of all people should know the value of foreign objects. By tapping into this creature, my organization could change the course of history and save millions of lives."

Trina didn't respond. And then, she shoved the champagne bottle against Fisher's chest. He clasp it, taking her hands in his, and Trina, bold, brave Trina, had the guts to step right up and whisper something in his ear.

Then, she walked away, leaving him staring, mouth agape.

Mikaela stumbled off the bar stool, back into her corner, snagging another drink and then pinging Megatron.

**"What? Did you find something?"**

**"Yes," **Mikaela said, grinning to herself.

**"What, femme, what? Spit it out!"**

**"I think….I just found your second-in-command."**


	6. The Dilemma

**"What in the Pit are are you trying to say, femme?"  
><strong>

Megatron's bellow was so loud that Mikaela slapped a hand against her ear, loudly. The bartender looked up, and Mikaela waved him away.

**"I know what happened to him. Starscream. You know, your crowning glory? The dude whose safety you've been bitching about for the past few days?"  
><strong>

**"You heard wrong. Starscream, no matter how stupid, cowardly–"**

**"_Arrogant_," **Mikaela pointed out, scowling. **"He underestimated them."**

**"He does that sometimes."**

**"All the time."**

Megatron was gone after that, but not before adding in a quick, **"We don't have time to discuss this. We shall tend to it later, but for now? Carry out the mission and don't. Get. Distracted."**

The soft ring in Mikaela's ear subsided, along with Megatron's voice.

Mikaela watched Fisher standing there, gaping like a fish, with mild fascination. The air around him seemed thick with rage, all directed at Trina, who had left her father and was engaged in a vivid, lively conversation with yet another endorser.

Mikaela sipped her drink again, and this time, was able to force it down. Each particle tasted dull. Anything other than energon seemed unappealing now, but she knew that desperate times called for desperate measures. She had to look human, had to _act_ human, in order to avoid suspicion

Which was proving to be harder and harder in itself, for the party guest all wanted to speak to her, to exchange idle words or discuss trivial matters, such as the stock, the rate of business, blah, blah, blah. All of it was unimportant to Mikaela. There was only Trina, Jude, and of course, Caine Fisher.

One she needed to bag and drag. One she desperately wanted to get drunk and faint or do something that would get her away. The other….well, she hoped death on the other, and that was about it.

The bartender across from Mikaela was paying her no attention. Too busy pouring rick vodka for some other guest. Mikaela easily slipped away, red curls bouncing on her shoulders as she walked, the heels high and awkward to navigate in. At least she hadn't stumbled, though.

It took her less than a second to spot Jude Garrison, who was just parting from the friendly embrace of another guest, as he began to walk towards the stage. A speech. Great, that was just what Mikaela needed. No doubt Fisher would be joining in. She had worn the heels, the dress, fixed the complexion and everything else, but she was not about to endure a long, overbearing oration from Caine Fisher.

But, as her eyes scanned the room, she realized that the guest of honor was nowhere to be seen. Not on the dance floor, not sitting at his designated table up in the front….no. He had just disappeared, slunk away into the shadows.

Something was wrong.

Jude was just shaking hands with his guest when Mikaela saw a flash in the corners of her vision. One of Fisher's guards. She had seen them with the man, hovering in the corners and watching the party unfold before them. They weren't an uncommon sight, but the fact that they were there, waiting, watching, it unnerved Mikaela just a bit.

Mikaela backed up, heels clicking against the polished floor.

She bumped into someone.

"Hey!"

She knew that voice.

Shit. It was Trina.

Mikaela dared to turn around, seeing the girl holding a glass of champagne. Up close, she looked even worse for wear. There were dark circles under her eyes, and though she was peppered with blush and eye shadow, Mikaela could still see the lines etched onto her face. No amount of makeup could cover all that.

Oh, God, what had she done? The guilt hit Mikaela like a tidal wave as she stared at the girl, at the way her eyes widened in faint recognition.

"You look familiar," Trina said, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes were now narrowed, as if she were suspicious, yet filled with a childlike curiosity, at the same time. "Do I know you?"

"I know your father," Mikaela said quickly. "We, um, worked together."

A blatant lie that was sure to blow her cover. But it didn't matter. Jude was taking the stage, tapping a finger against the microphone. The speakers boomed to life, and Mikaela grimaced.

"Oh, did you? Pretty little chick like you, no surprise my dad was always in such a hurry to get to work," Trina's harsh tone ripped through Mikaela, and she had to resist the urge to bolt.

"Our relationship wasn't exactly mutual. I was at the bottom of the class," Mikaela waved a hand. "And, I mean, I could never replace…."

"Don't say it."

Mikaela gulped. She had done her research – well, Soundwave had done the research – and the Garrison family history was far from uninteresting. Trina's mother, Julia Garrison, had died of cancer just years before Trina had enlisted as N.E.S.T's physical therapist. No wonder Trina had never spoken of it, for the relationship between the three members of the Garrison family wasn't exactly….stable.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my place."

Trina took a long swig of champagne and looked towards her father, her gaze livid enough to curdle cheese.

"You know, this is all bullshit," she suddenly said. "My dad has been Fisher's number one endorser since, like, what? 2008? Hell, that was even before the Brotherhood had come into the picture."

"Fisher was always rich?"

"A dude that hot? He's gotta be making some serious cash. A shame, though, cause his personality doesn't do his looks justice."

A shame it was, indeed. Mikaela looked around and saw no sign of the man.

**"Megatron?"**

**"What?"**

**"We have a problem…"**

**"When do we not?" **another exasperated sigh. Then, **"Oh slag."**

**"What? Why, 'Oh, slag'?"**

**"You'd better bag that fleshy _fast_, Mikaela, because you have company."**

The words were meant to be a warning, and Mikaela was smart enough to interpret that. She just wished Megatron had been a little_ quicker_ with his words, for as soon as his voice faded from Mikaela's ear, the shots were fired.

One, two, three. Rapid fire in stunning succession.

The crown screamed. Several people collapsed. A bullet went wide and slammed into one of the speakers, ripping it off the wall.

The men, all clad in black, stormed into the room. Black mask, black shirts and pants. From head to toe. Even though her holoform was just an artificial disguise, not meant to be real, Mikaela could feel her heart beating in her chest and her throat began to constrict, as if it all _were _real.

Unreal to her, real to the girl next to her.

"Shit! The fuck is going on?" Trina screeched, but Mikaela forced her down.

Six more shots. The champagne bottle in Trina's hand exploded as a bullet that had flown wide shattered it into a million pieces.

She screamed.

Things had escalated from bad, to worse. Through all the commotion and the screams and snarls and the staccato of gunfire, Mikaela saw Fisher offering a hand to Jude.

No.

A trap!

Mikaela lunged.

"What the hell are you doing?" Trina screeched. "Get back here!"

The men were firing at the ceiling now, the lights overhead erupting in showers of sparks. White-hot embers singed Mikaela's hair as the chandelier snapped and crashed into the tiles below.

"Trina!"

She didn't know who had yelled the words. Her, or Jude. He seemed to realize, now, that Fisher was indeed a foe, and before his screams could rise in volume, Fisher grabbed a nearby wine bottle and smashed it down upon his head.

Mikaela cried out in shock. She couldn't tell what was blood and what was the velvety wine, but she knew there was a lot of it.

**"Megatron!" **she shrieked over the link. **"I need backup!"**

Even as she said the words, she knew that he was too far away to help.

**"Consider this a test, my dear. Tap into Roadrunner's conscience and do what you do best."**

**"Which is what?"**

**"Speed."**

Mikaela slammed her shoulder into the ribs of an oncoming attacker. As he fell, blood gushing from his mouth, she grabbed the pistol strung to his belt.

In the background, the noise of the assault had slowed to a crawl. In her mind, the screams as the men fell on the guest were nothing. There was only her, and the pistol in her hand as she cocked it, and took aim.

"No!"

_Crack._

She was pretty sure that if she hadn't had a good grip on the handle that the force, the powerful buck of the pistol, would have blown off her hand.

A scream. Fisher's scream.

His eyes were wild as blood spurted from the hole in his shoulder. It was a horrendous wound, enough to kill, but she knew Fisher's men wouldn't let that happen. They were already grabbing the unconscious Jude and dragging him down another hallway, away from the conflict.

Sirens, in the background. The police were already on the scene.

Mikaela ran after Fisher and his men, seeing the crimson trail left behind. She kicked off her heels and let them dissipate behind her, eagerly bounding, the soles of her feet refusing to ache. She could go on like this for miles and miles, running and running and running.

This was what she had been built for. Pursuit. Whether it be speeding through the streets of Tranquility, or chasing down a human, entirely dependent on a holoform to keep her going.

Fisher was just rounding a corner when Mikaela fired a shot.

The bullet flew, embedding itself in the plaster. Inches from where Fisher had been, moments before.

She heard the scuffle of feet and the long stream of curses as the men bashed their guns against the doors to each room – hotel rooms, Mikaela observed – trying to get them open.

Finally, as she turned yet another corner, she saw Jude Garrison's foot disappear into a hotel suite.

The door slammed shut behind him, but Mikaela was already running, leaping into the air, slamming into the door as hard as she could.

It buckled and fell in, and Mikaela was greeted with one last glimpse of Fisher, who was clutching a cloth to the bloody hole in his shoulder, disappear out the window.

She ran over, ignoring the blood soaked carpet, and looked down.

Barricade, who had caught the humans before they could become a pancake on the sidewalk, looked up at Mikaela and beamed.

She fired. Once, twice, several more times.

Click.

Empty.

She cast the pistol aside, mouthed the words "fuck you" to Barricade, and then dismissed her holoform.

Consciousness returned in a burst of light. Her engine revved, the red lights of her interior flicking on. Her headlight shone brightly, enough to illuminate the figure of a girl as she stormed towards the red Nissan.

"Oh, frag," Mikaela mumbled.

Trina waved her arms in the air, her voice shrill and full of rage.

"What was that?" She screamed, ignoring the rush of people as they flowed past her. Time was short, and Mikaela just considered driving away, but a part of her wanted to hear what Trina had to say.

She had, after all, been able to identify her alt mode, even with the new look. Something was there, but Mikaela just couldn't figure out _what_.

"You fucking decide to go off an 'adventure' and then don't call….you….you…." Trina balled up her fist, squeezing back tears. With a roar, she kicked the side of Mikaela's alt mode.

Mikaela growled, the noise rumbling alone her entire frame.

"Open the door."

"What?"

"Open the door or I swear to God you will never see the light of day again."

Mikaela popped the latch and the doors swung upward, like the wings of a pelican. Trina climbed inside the drivers seat, smacking her hands against the steering wheel. Hard.

"I am so pissed and confused right now….they have my dad. You know that, right? They took him away."

"I know."

"They…."

Mikaela eased out onto the main road, leaving the fiasco at Bravo Hotel behind. Cops screeched past, sirens on full blare. None of them were Barricade.

"Trina…" Mikaela began after a while.

"Don't talk to me. Just take me away from here, back to wherever you live or whatever. Just….don't talk to me, alright?"

With that, Trina bowed her head and cried.


	7. Intellectual Heist

The drive out of the city was short, and full of silence. Trina rested her head against the dashboard, uttering a small sigh every now and then. Mikaela dared not retaliate. The girl had been through a hell of a night, and for some reason, Mikaela felt that trying to engage with her would make it worse.

Las Vegas faded behind them, and Mikaela glanced back. The city was like a gigantic, glowing orb in the distance.

She doubted Megatron would give her a break after this particular fiasco. Neither would Trina, when she found out why Mikaela had been in Vegas in the first. Both would be equally distraught, but on different degrees.

It would take a while, but Mikaela hoped Trina would forgive her. Or, at least understand. Forgiveness wasn't something she quested for, and as long as Trina stood out of the way, let them do their work, Mikaela wouldn't have any complaints.

That way, Trina wouldn't find herself on the wrong end, like her father. She would be safe. Unharmed.

Maybe it would be better if they just didn't talk at all.

Even then, Mikaela didn't think she would be able to stand that. Trina was the last human she cared deeply about. Her father was second, especially after the whole Brotherhood mess, and a few other things that carried back to her human years. And Sam….there was nothing left to say.

So, yeah, basically, Trina was it.

"Are we going to the Decepticons?" Trina suddenly asked, lifting her head from the dashboard and wiping her mouth. She had been sleeping. And drooling. Unlike some, human lubricants didn't bother her much.

"Yeah. You'll get to meet our happy band of three," Mikaela gave a dry laugh. "An overzealous head, an emo Mercedes, and the King of Douche."

Trina chuckled, and then leaned back in her chair. She closed her eyes, making a face, as if she were about to say something. Then, she faltered and went back to staring at the ceiling.

"What?"

"Huh?"

"You were going to say something."

Trina glanced at the dashboard, as if inspecting it for the sound of Mikaela's voice. She said, "I was just thinking about my dad."

"Oh, I'm sure he's in good company," Mikaela said sarcastically. Then, lowering her voice, she said, "Listen, Trina, I….I don't know what to tell you."

"Then don't tell me," she replied. "Just drive."

Mikaela pulled off the main road unnoticed, venturing into the flat, desert terrain, a cloud of dust billowing behind her. She could feel her systems churning at the thought of confronting Megatron, at the thought of him punishing her as he did Starscream.

But…he would understand, right? This had been Mikaela's first official task, an important one, but still her first. And how was she to predict Fisher's sudden appearance? Megatron had said it himself, that he hadn't been on the guest list last they had checked.

Someone had smuggled in at the last minute, it seemed.

"Is that it?" Trina perked up and pointed to the massive shapes moving in the distance. One medium height, one unnaturally small, the other towering. Dark silhouettes in the moonlight.

Mikaela's night vision was acute, and from far away, she could see Megatron as he stepped into the light, staring at Mikaela's speeding form.

Then, his optics fell over Trina, who was sitting in the front seat.

He began to bound towards her, just as she was transforming, letting Trina stand beside her. And that was when she saw the murderous rage in his red optics, and a part of her knew that she'd better step in front of him quickly, before Trina got hurt.

Or killed.

* * *

><p>"You fragging, insufferable wretch!" Megatron snarled, bashing his foot against a crate full of energon cubes. It fell from its perch, crashing into the ground below. The noise was normal to Mikaela, but thunderous to Trina, and the girl clapped her hands over her ears.<p>

Trina sat on a different crate, on her knees. Mikaela could hear the erratic pounding of her heart as she observed the Decepticon's before her. Megatron had yet made an attempt to speak to her, though he seemed as if her were tempted.

"I had no choice. She insisted that she come, and I couldn't just leave her…." Mikaela faltered, and then added, "Her father was captured. She deserved some kind of explanation as to why."

"_We_ don't even know why!" Megatron bellowed. "What was running through your processors when you–"

"She has information, too," Mikaela interrupted. "About Starscream."

"Yes, yes, yes," Megatron waved a hand. "The fool was captured by the Brotherhood."

"But she knows where they took him. Right?" Mikaela swiveled her optics to look at Trina, and another pair followed. Trina stood, as if trying to look determined.

"Y-Yeah," she stammered, and then seemed to compose herself. She was used to dealing with Cybertronians, so why should they be any different? "He spoke about it at the banquet. Said that they've captured him and left him in one of their HQ's," Trina began to twist the strap of her dress, looking down at the crate beneath her feet.

"Where, femme?" Megatron knelt down to face her, and Trina leaped back. "Location. We need a location."

"He didn't say," Trina said, stepping up to Megatron. Her confidence had returned once she realized that the huge alien wasn't going to squash her like a bug. "But I have an assumption. He said that their main HQ – the one you guys trashed – was being rebuilt. It's their largest facility, and perfectly cloaked. Why not there?"

"Are you sure?" Megatron asked.

"Look," Trina raised her hands in a placating gesture. "I'm just a physical therapist. Not a psychic. I don't know everything, alright? But that's just my theory, and if its right – notice the if, the very big 'if' – then you'll be able to find your friend in no time."

Megatron stood to his full height and turned to face Mikaela.

"You trust this fleshling?"

"With my life," Mikaela responded. "I owe it too her."

Trina smiled.

"Then we leave tomorrow," Megatron said. "Back to our old home, hm? Fisher is going to be in for a surprise."

"Wait!" Trina suddenly shouted, causing Megatron to turn and eye her with obvious distaste. "What about my father?"

"Right now, he is not our top priority," Megatron replied, narrowing his eyes. "He was just going to be a pawn, anyway. There are plenty of wealthy fleshing we can add to the game, when the time is right."

Trina gulped, and Mikaela saw the cold sweat rolling down her neck. She glanced at Mikaela, her usually reserved expression morphing into pure agony. She wiped away a tear and then sat back down, her dress fanning out around her.

Oh, God, don't look at her, Mikaela said, turning away, it will only break you.

Megatron sauntered away, back to his crappy makeshift tent to speak to Soundwave. Igor was on his back, recharging, blue drool trickling from his deformed lip plates

"This is a load of bullshit," Trina finally said. "How long are you guys going to keep you here?"

"Until your information runs out, I guess," Mikaela grumbled. "And believe me, I don't agree with Megatron's policy either. I'd rather go for your father."

"Sure," Trina mumbled.

"It's true, and you know it," Mikaela rested her hands on either side of Trina. "I'd do anything to make it up to you, alright? Anything."

"Then come back with me."

Silence. Mikaela had seen the words coming. A part of her was torn between Trina, or freedom.

Optimus, or Megatron? That was the question that pestered her mind day and night. She loved Optimus, she really, really did. She could relay every touch, every kiss, every moment spent together.

But Roadrunner thought otherwise. And sometimes, Roadrunner had the most control. Also, the plan with Garrison had been so thought out, so seemingly flawless, that Mikaela hadn't had time to think of the possibility of something going wrong.

"I can't," she said.

"Why?"

Why? Because she couldn't. Because what was done was done. They would never accept her back, anyway, after all she had done. Ratchet, Ironhide, her_ father_?

And plus, Starscream. Poor, poor Starscream. The mech was an imbecile, but, dare she say it, he was a comrade. She couldn't leave him, just yet….

"It's complicated."

Trina sighed and leaned back, kicking off her heels and dropping them off the crate. They fell onto the dirt below, a little plume rising in their wake. She adjusted her dress and stared Mikaela dead on, right in the optics.

"Then you should go ahead and change the color of your optics."

The insult hit home, right in Mikaela's spark. She made a noise, a small whine, opening her mouth.

"I'm not your enemy."

"You sure act like it. You were going after my dad, weren't you? That's why you were at the banquet. Not to protect him, to capture him," Trina sneered, and then shook her head. "To _use _him. Company-jacking, as I recall? That's what you wanted him for?"

Mikaela was silent because Trina was absolutely right.

"And attacking the Brotherhood. Trying to kill Fisher. What was that about, huh?"

"Oh, you would have done the same thing," Mikaela replied, her voice rising in volume. "He tried to kill me, first. No, no, scratch that, he tried to kill _Sam _first, and I happen to get caught in the crossfire. Oops! Guess that didn't turn out the way he planned!"

Now it was Trina's turn to be silent.

"And then there's _her_," Mikaela's lip plates turned upward in a nasty snarl. She rapped her fist against the side of her helm. "Ratchet never got her completely out. I can hear her voice, all the time. Talking to me. Giving me advice. And you know what? Sometimes she gives some damn good tips on how to survive!"

"Then shut her out."

"It's not as easy as you think."

Now, Trina's face was flushed. Red painted her cheeks, and it wasn't blush this time.

"I watched you grow, Mikaela. Into a different species altogether," Trina stood and planted her hands on her hips. "I had you in the gym every day, lifting weights, running on supersized treadmills. Punching walls, throwing things and all sorts of other shit. I watched you wield a weapon like a pro."

Silence. Trina steeled herself, choking back a sudden sob.

"No other person on Earth would have been able to go from through that sort of change. Sam wouldn't have been able to do that. _I _wouldn't have been able to do that," Trina looked up. "And if you can do all that, then you sure as hell can shut out an annoying voice in your head and do the right thing."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Mikaela's lip plates.

"You have to power. Not me," Trina waggled a finger a smiled. "And that, my friend, is a _fact_."


	8. Shot Down

"I want to go."

"You aren't going."

"Why not? This my dad we're talking about," Trina cocked a hip to the side, and Megatron stared down at her, seemingly unfazed by the gesture. He shook his head and knelt down to her height, claws extended, as if trying to pinch Trina between two wickedly sharp talons.

To Mikaela's amazement, the girl did not flinch. Just stared Megatron right in the optic, refusing to budge.

"That's the reason why you're not going," He hissed, his hot breath causing Trina's green-streaked hair to blow back, and then whip forward. "I can't afford a fleshy like you doing something inexplicitly rash or stupid. You are better off here, where Soundwave can keep a watchful eye on you."

At this statement, Trina huffed and turned to Mikaela. She was standing off to the side, away from the conflict, trying her best not to get involved. It was better this way, with Megatron making the rules. He was an expert at these kinds of things. When it came to strategy, he was the one to call.

"My hands are clean on this, alright?" Mikaela spread her arms in a placating gesture. "He's the boss, so you listen to him."

She hadn't said it. She'd wanted to say it, but Trina's agonizing stare had killed whatever was inside her. In a way, it made sense, leaving her with Soundwave. The sun was beginning to set, the moon peeking out from behind the dense clouds. It was now or never, and Mikaela's didn't want to quibble over such trivial matters.

"You agree with him?" Trina exploded, shooting an angry glare in Megatron's direction. The massive mech just huffed and stood, crossing his arms. "You know about this, Mikaela! You're dad was captured too, and you…."

"She took the easy way out," Megatron sneered. "Now hush, fleshling, we have work to do."

Fist clenched. Jaw set. Feet planted firmly on the ground. Trina was practically raving, her face and neck red, eyes livid. She said, voice strained, "My name is not 'fleshling.' It's Trina Garrison, and you'd be best to remember that."

Megatron chuckled at the threat, though Mikaela saw a hint of….was that _respect_?

Mikaela shook her head and knelt down in front of Trina, door wings fluttering slightly. Meeting Trina's gaze, she said, "It's for the best," she stood and looked at Soundwave, speaking directly to the solemn mech. "If you so much as harm a hair on her head….I will find you, and personally escort you to the Pit."

Soundwave didn't flinch, but Mikaela could see in his eyes that the threat had hit home.

"You understand me? You'll take good care of her?"

A nod.

"We must hurry," Megatron grumbled in her ear. "Say goodbye to the femme and let's move."

Mikaela turned away from Megatron, seeing Trina standing on the grass. She had ripped off part of her dress to use as a blanket, letting it hang above her knees. Her hair, an elegant shade of blue's and greens and reds, seemed to be the only fluctuating part about her. Her expression was tight, jaw clenched, eyes set straight forward. She did not meet Mikaela's eye.

"You stay safe, alright?" She said. "Both of you."

Mikaela couldn't do anything but nod.

* * *

><p>The drive to the Brotherhood HQ was long and agonizing. The entire way Mikaela's frame was thirsting for energon, or at least something to sustain her. If there were to be some sort of conflict, or maybe even a battle, then she'd rather not be lax and weakened.<p>

There was no telling what Fisher had in his arsenal, other than Barricade. The former Decepticon was their best and most used weapon, and Mikaela had no doubt that, if seen, Megatron would jump at the first chance to slit his throat.

Traitor.

The words stung her glossa when the thought of them, due to the fact that she, too, was a traitor. She had betrayed Ratchet. Ironhide. Trina, in a way. And she could never forget _him_….

**"What happens if they do have him?"**

**"We work something out."**

**"You were never the diplomatic type," **Mikaela switched lanes, passing a slow, lagging truck. High, high up in the sky, where the humans had no chance of spotting him, flew Megatron. He was faster in the air, so he was probably ahead by at least a mile or so. But he wouldn't let Mikaela miss the fun.

**"Says who?"**

**"Says everyone," **Mikaela grimaced. **"It's usually a bloody free-for-all, when you're leading."**

**"Well, I'm sorry I'm not living up to your expectations, Mikaela. I can be patient when I want to be. I can make deals and execute trades."**

Mikaela didn't respond. She kept her optics on the road in front of her, headlights flashing brightly as she drove. Already, it was in her sights. A few miles a way, but still looming in the distance.

**"I have a bad feeling about this," **Mikaela commed.

**"That's what you said last time, and look how that turned out."**

If she would have been in her bipedal mode, she would have given him the middle finger salute. But her alt mode limited her to wheels and doors.

**"Uh-huh. And do you have an actual plan this time?"**

**"Certainly."**

**"Care to share?"**

**"You will see."**

That was code for, 'I don't have a plan,' and Mikaela knew those types all to well. They got there, did their business, but in the end, shit always ended up going down. It reminded her of Sam, in a way, though not as drastic.

The Brotherhood HQ, as always, was closed to the public during the night. Though Mikaela was able to drive into the main parking area, she could sense the newly installed cameras as they zoomed in on her form. Cutting the engine, she let her alternate mode sit, basking in the glow of the moonlight.

She wanted them to see her. With her new pain and upgrades, she hoped that they would recognize her, but she wasn't sure….

A flash caught her attention. She eased forward on her axles, searching for the source. It looked like light, glinting off a polished surface. A polished, dark metal surface…

Then, she saw him.

Barricade lay stretched out across the roof, and Mikaela could clearly see his hulking body. The lights on his shoulders flashed dangerously. Police sirens, she remembered. Barricade stretched his huge body and peered over the side, spotting Mikaela with cold, red optics.

Good.

**"Is he there?"**

**"Yeah. But you're still clear to land."**

And he did. Dropping out of the sky like a bird of prey came Megatron, flipping in midair before landing, his pedes observing the impact. The ground shook, and parked cars bounced on their rubber wheels. On one, the windshield shattered into a million, glittering pieces.

Barricade's expression changed from triumph, to absolute horror.

"What are you doing?" Megatron called. "Lounging up their like a champion, I see," he chuckled.

He didn't respond.

"Did he cut out your glossa and render you speechless? Is that how much you _adore_ the Honorable Caine. E. Fisher, savior of the human race?" Megatron's voice was rising in volume. Out of sheer anger, or the fact that they louder they spoke, the more clearly Fisher could hear them.

"I did what I could to survive."

His voice was deep and gruff, like Ironhide's, but held that snarky, sarcastic tone Sunstreaker carried. He perched himself at the edge of the roof, as if daring for Megatron to leap up and strangle him.

_Bad idea, man. Bad idea._

"What you did was a disgrace. You have labeled yourself as an enemy of the Decepticon cause, and you will pay the same price all others have paid for standing between us, and our goal," Megatron's next words were spat out, harsh, and full of undying hatred. "_Death_."

Mikaela could see the tension in both mechs. Both ready to lunge. Mikaela knew that if she didn't act, there would indeed be a fight. No matter who came out on top, it did not matter. They were here for Starscream, not to shed useless blood.

"We have a message," Mikaela cut in before Megatron could utter another word. "For Fisher."

"Yes, yes," Barricade pretended to be inspecting his talons. "He's quite distraught, you know, over his shoulder. You shot straight and must have hit a nerve, because the doctors say he might not ever be able to use it again."

A part of Mikaela felt guilty – a small part, mind you – and another part was filled smug with satisfaction. If she had aimed higher, she would have torn open his neck. Higher, would have gone straight through the head. Just the thought of spilling his blood, watching it run against the ground in a river….it filled Mikaela with a giddy happiness.

He was the one who had made her like this. The one who had sent Barricade after Bumblebee on that faithful day, intending to hit Sam but instead hitting her.

Hard.

"Tell him that my thoughts are with him," Mikaela said sarcastically, "And that I need to speak with him. Now."

"If I decline your request?"

"Then_ we_ attack, and _you_ die," Mikaela smiled. "Come now, don't be so foolish as to think you can take us both on at the same time."

Barricade was a smart mech. Mikaela could see that her words were sinking in, and soon, he was scrambling off the roof. Gone. Disappearing into the HQ.

A minute passed.

He came out first, and then Barricade. Hobbling along, clutching his shoulder and biting his lip. His honey colored hair seemed to be all astray, but even then, he was still attractive. Attractive, but in a horrifying, sickening way.

He stood at the edge of the roof, using the railing for support, saying, "What?"

What. It was formal, short, sweet, and too the point. He looked as if he didn't want to stay out in the dark for long because it hurt him or something, so Mikaela intended to make it last as long as possible. The more pain, the more pleasure.

"You know what we want."

"If I did, I wouldn't have asked what," Fisher narrowed his eyes. Behind him, Barricade snickered. "Really, you have the nerve to come here. This place is for humans. Not your kind."

"But we're here," Megatron called. Fisher's eyes flickered towards him, hostile, and full of rage. "We're here, and I see no cavalry."

"We don't need one."

"But _we_ need something," Mikaela spoke up, tilting back her head to stare at the human man. So small, yet so, so big when it came to political power. "Where is he?"

"Where is who?"

"Don't play dumb. The Seeker. The flier. The alien," Mikaela's voice became a snarl. "_Starscream_."

Fisher laughed. Laughed aloud, clapping his hands together then wincing when he jarred his injured shoulder. "The alien? Him? Oh, he's in good company," Fisher leaned against the railing. "Such, such good company. You ought not to worry about the likes of him."

"We n_eed_ him, Fisher," Mikaela said, biting back a hiss. "And we're not leaving until we get him."

"What are you aliens going to do? Hm? Burn down the building like you did the last time? If so…." He flicked a golden lock out of his seemingly perfect hair. "We'll just rebuild. Over and over. I have the power to do that, you know. And the money. It's all about the money."

"Is this fool inebriated?" Megatron murmured in Mikaela's ear. She shrugged. She was asking herself the same question. He seemed to have lost that smooth, and somewhat charming charisma. Now, as she looked at him, standing atop the roof, almost matching Megatron's height, she realized that this was the way he addressed his audiences, during the rally's.

"It's what drives a man to do what he does," Fisher glanced back at Barricade. "No matter what the cost. Me? I'm working on an alternative. I can't offer the government cash. They have plenty," he looked down, his gaze full of contempt and loathing. "But I can offer than something else."

"We know about your plan. Bribing Congress with Cybertronian technology in exchange for the exile of the Autobots," Megatron shook his head. "I, in general, would be an avid supporter of your cause, if it didn't involve one of _my _soldiers, and if you hadn't, time and time again, disrupted the balance of my _campaign."_

"You really think I'm afraid of you?" Fisher's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "You underestimate our species."

"And you underestimate ours."

Silence. The glares exchanged between the two species could curdle milk.

"It's a matter of who cracks first, Fisher," Mikaela called. "We offer you an alternative. Give us back Starscream, or we will take him back ourselves."

Barricade cut in, suddenly, shifting from behind Fisher.

"Then you can take Starscream back in pieces."

Two pairs of optics swiveled to look at him.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"What do you mean?"

"You overheard us at the banquet," Fisher said, cutting Barricade off. "The Garrison girl and I. You were there, listening. I made it as clear as I could."

"B…I-I…" Mikaela stammered, noticing that Megatron was staring at her with curious optics.

"Are you saying that you killed Starscream?"

"I believe, from what I heard him screeching before we pulled the plug, that the Cybertronian term is 'offline.'"

It was as if someone had plunged a knife right into her spark.

Digging.

Digging. Deeper.

_No, _Roadrunner was suddenly there, in Mikaela's head. Speaking. Listening. _The fool is lying. Kill the fool!_

Mikaela stood as Roadrunner's voice became a shriek.

_Kill the fool! Kill the fool! Kill the fool!_

"Kill him."

Megatron lunged, suddenly, and Barricade barely had any time to react.

Gunfire. An explosion of light that knocked Mikaela flat onto her back, her processors screaming warning, and she ignored them because she was too focused on Megatron's massive shape as it hurtled towards the wall. One big jump, and he would be over, skewering his talons into Fisher's body, and then that would be the end of that.

But something was wrong. Mikaela felt it. Fisher was standing, unmoving, hands gripping the railing so tightly that they turned red.

_No! _

Suddenly, out of the shadows, an electrical charge. A beam – maybe it was long, maybe it was short, but Mikaela couldn't tell because it moved so fast – streaked through the air, a practically invisible projectile.

It slammed into Megatron's chest, just an inch above his spark. He went down, twitching, screaming so loudly that Fisher clapped his hands over his ears and Mikaela had to roll over, just so she couldn't see the sight.

He was still twitching and jerking around, energon dripping from his lip plates, and Mikaela was sure he was dead because there was no way, no way in the Pit that anyone could survive a wound of that magnitude.

He stopped jerking, stopped twitching.

He went still, leaving Mikaela in the dark.


	9. Sinful Pride

_Go! Get him! Kill him!_

Mikaela didn't have time to scream at Roadrunner to shut up. Her legs were reacting, almost on their own accord, hurtling her towards Megatron.

A flash!

She twisted her abdomen and the projectile skimmed her waist, sending off a small burst of sparks that traveled down her entire frame. Then, she ducked and rolled, narrowly avoiding another shot that whizzed past her audio receptor.

Shaking fingers closed around Megatron's shoulders. The energon was pumping out of him, and with each jerk as Mikaela tried to drag him away, fresh blue liquid seeped from the wound.

His mouth was open, moving, but no words were coming out. His red eyes were wide and scanning Mikaela's face with vague recognition.

The other noises, Fisher's shouts, Barricade as he readied his weapons and the soft whirl as whatever mechanical device that had sprung the projectile prepared itself for another assault. Mikaela was hoisting Megatron up, armor scraping across the ground and leaving a blue trail in its wake.

Flash! Another, and then another!

The metal rods struck the asphalt, sparks snaking from the tips and spider webbing across the hard ground. Mikaela just had time to hop clear of the questing electricity before grabbing Megatron once more, letting his arms hang around her shoulders, running as far away from the HQ as she could.

Even then, Fisher's cries were audible.

"Let them go! Let them go! The cowards got nothing on us, anyway!"

Let them go, because Megatron would die anyway. He was the key. A resistance couldn't function without a leader, and Megatron was just that.

He would join Starscream.

Dead.

Both of them.

Mikaela bit back a sudden sob and then looked down at Megatron. His optics were blank. One talon had risen to clutch at his chest, stemming the flow of energon.

She needed a medic. Someone to…

Someone.

She gripped under his arms and pulled him into the forest, back towards the vast expanse of desert that had been her home for the past few weeks. Down a different route, for the one previously traveled was full of roads and bridges, and she certainly couldn't drive with Megatron strapped to her roof.

The energon sizzling and dripping from the hole in his chest splattered against the fallen leaves, causing them to shrivel up and die. There was a trail from where Megatron's feet had digging grooves in the wet dirt, through it didn't matter. Nobody was following them.

Yet.

Mikaela let Megatron's head rest against the grass, pressing a finger to the side of her helm.

**"Soundwave. We have a problem. Meet me at these coordinates as soon as possible."**

The message was short, sweet, and simple. She tried to keep the shakiness out of her tone, but she was unable to. All the while, thick, blue tears ran down her cheeks, splashing against the grass and causing it to sizzle.

She knelt down beside him, the towering beast she had once called an enemy, and cradled his head in her arms. Crying, but trying not to.

She stroked a finger down his cheek, and then began to drag him, little by little, across the ground. Trying to stir up as little energon as possible. Grunting. Sobbing.

He would not die.

The more she thought it, the more she realized that it wasn't true.

* * *

><p>Soundwave's alt mode swerved into view, kicking up a massive plume of dirt and dust. The Mercedes transformed before Trina could even step out, letting her fall into a pile of dry shrubbery. She cried out in protest, and then gripped her dress, pulling it out of the thorns.<p>

She met Mikaela's eyes, and Mikaela noticed that they were full of worry.

"What happened?" Soundwave inquired lamely, kneeling beside Megatron's motionless frame.

"Shock sticks. That's what I call em'," Mikaela snorted, kicking angrily at the dirt. "Got him right above the spark. Think he'll live?"

"Unknown," Soundwave said again, his voice barely above a whisper. His optics surveyed the damage, the hole in his chest and his blank optics. He was alive, but barely.

"He will die within a matter of days, without proper medical attention," Soundwave confirmed after a while. His optics met Mikaela's, and the silent exchange between them was almost too much. Both were anxious, one more than the other.

Mikaela collapsed to her knees, fist curled, resting them against Megatron's chest, opposite of the horrendous wound.

_No._

Roadrunner. She was back, her presence in Mikaela's conscious ebbing away. She was slipping, taking Mikaela with her.

_If he dies, all is lost._

_Yes, but wouldn't that be better? I wouldn't have to choose between him or…_

_You know who you want._

Mikaela nodded to herself, looking up. Trina stood, feet planted against the dirt, heels abandoned. Barefoot. Dress hanging off her in tatters, the elegant sleeves gone, hair astray and framing her face in curls.

She said in a small voice, "You have to do it."

Megatron stirred. Opened his mouth, but all that came out was a spurt of energon. His optics were beginning to glow, softly, bright crimson encircled by dull ruby. He looked at Mikaela for a split second, raised a trembling hand, and touched her face.

_What's he saying?_

_I don't know._

_Look at him, imbecile. What. Is. He. Saying?_

Mikaela knew the answer, but was able to shut Roadrunner out. She didn't want to hear it from her. Never wanted to hear it from her, because she knew the truth.

"I love you."

The words tasted bitter on her lip plates, but she stared at Megatron with longing. She held his talon in her own, clutching it to her spark.

"We have to do something," Trina finally said. "We have to call them. They'll know what to do."

"And then what, Trina?" Mikaela rounded on her, dental plates bared. "Then what? I'm a turncoat, remember? The Cybertronian equivalent of Benedict Arnold. I pulled shit and got shit back!"

"You think I don't realize that!" Trina exploded, picking up a rock a hurtling it across the desert, as hard as she could. It landed, sending up a small puff of dirt. "Bullshit! All you spew is bullshit, Mikaela! You don't stop to look at what's right in front of you!"

"Then enlighten me," Mikaela said caustically.

"He loved you. Optimus. When you left, he blamed it all on himself. It was like watching Atlas hold up the world, alright? You know how much that killed him? But even if he was worried or mad or angry, he still loves you so much…."

Mikaela was silent.

"He'll forgive you now, he'll forgive you a thousand times over," Trina said, jabbing a finger in Mikaela's direction, and then jerked her chin at Megatron's frame. "You want him to live. I sure as hell don't, but you do, so I guess I have no other choice but to provide helpful information. But you have to heed it."

Mikaela nodded.

It wasn't hard, tapping into the system. Her head was like a supercomputer, her processors bypassing firewalls and other security. It was like riding a bike, really. So, so easy.

**"Prime, this is Mikaela Banes. Roadrunner. You know me. You and Ratchet need to get the hell over here," **she paused, and then said, **"I'll send you my coordinates. I mean it, this is not a trap or a joke. If you love me, you'll just have to trust me."**

Then she logged off, and sat down.

She waited.

* * *

><p>The sun began to rise, a gigantic orange ball in the sky. Glowing. Bright. So bright, that it pierce past Mikaela's dimmed optics and caused her to blink.<p>

One hand was secured over Megatron's spark, her helm nuzzling his neck. He seemed to be holding her as well, his hot breath brushing against her audio receptors.

He was cold as ice, uncommon for Cybertronians.

Shivering, too.

"Megatron," she breathed, sitting up. A few yards away lay Trina, curled into a ball. Flies nipped at her ripped dress, and she stirred and brushed them away before falling back into a not-so-peaceful slumber. Next to her lay Soundwave, stoic and cold, on his back. Unmoving.

"Trina! Wave'!" Mikaela called, clapping her hands. "Get up!"

They both jolted, as if they had been shocked. Trina struggled to her feet, shifting through a cloud of dust and dirt.

"This is like a bad camp," Trina called, smoothing out her rumpled clothing. "Hey, where's the chocolate and crackers and nice, homey fire, Mikaela?"

"Oh, shut it," Mikaela said, waving a hand and trying not to laugh. She looked down at Megatron, saw that his lip plates were twitching ever so slightly.

"Hang on for me," she breathed against his lips, leaning down.

She kissed him as softly and subtly as possible.

Soundwave made a noise.

Trina said a rude word.

Mikaela looked at them, and then back at Megatron. A small smile graced his misshapen features.

Yeah, she thought, don't get used to it.

Mikaela stood, and then began to examine the wound. It had stopped gushing energon like a hose, but it was still open and crusted over. His internal wiring could be seen, popping and crackling, electricity running through the wires, fueled by his faintly throbbing spark.

"Shit," Mikaela cursed. "They'd better hurry up soon. We're losing him."

"He's a tough mech," Trina said, approaching cautiously. "He can handle it."

Glares were exchanged, but Trina did not retaliate. She just cocked her hip and crossed her arms.

Mikaela rested a hand against his chest, looking off into the distance. It was like a never ending game. Watching. Waiting. Hoping.

Where were they?

Was Megatron going to die.

_No. You can't afford to think that way._

Then, "There!" It was Trina, pointing and jumping on bloody, bare feet. A plume of dust was rising into the air, two plumes.

A flash of yellow in the sunlight, and then a flash of blue and red.

"Soundwave," Mikaela said, "Take her."

"Whoa, wait, what the hell–" Trina's cries were abruptly cut off when Soundwave scooped her into his hands, transformed down, and then began to back away. Then, he sped off into the desert, leaving Mikaela alone with Megatron's body.

_Good thinking. Leverage is always useful. _

_That still doesn't mean I'm like you._

_Keep telling yourself that, Banes. _

The hummer and the semi approached, skidding into view. Then, transforming, one taking longer than the other. The yellow mech stood with narrowed eyes and weapons drawn, while the other approached silently, trying not to look at the massive hunk of silver metal that rested in his lover's arms.

Mikaela could only say one thing.

"Hi, Ratchet. Hi, Optimus."


	10. Declaration of War

"You have some nerve, Mikaela Banes."

The words sounded foul on Ratchet's lip plates, as if he believed that speaking her name was a curse in itself. His weapons were still online as he surveyed Megatron's crumpled frame behind her, and he made a noise of disgust when he took in the injured Decepticon.

"More so than you think," Mikaela said, jerking a thumb at Megatron. "We had a run in with the Brotherhood. They…I don't know what they did to him. They shocked him with something, and we didn't have a medic close enough to…."

"Uh-huh," Ratchet said, glancing at Optimus.

The blue and red mech was motionless. His eyes were set firmly on Mikaela, mouth pulled into a line. He looked like he really, really wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

"I need your help," Mikaela pleaded. "He'll die if he doesn't get the medical attention he needs."

"And that's our problem?" Ratchet said.

"You don't have to do it if you don't want to," Mikaela said.

Glances between the two mechs were exchanged. Optimus looked indifferent. Ratchet looked angry, saddened, confused. His blaster was trained on Megatron, as if he considered shooting him and ending him now, but his optics were on Mikaela and her energon covered hands.

"Optimus?"

"Do it," Prime spoke. "Fix him, and then we'll be on our way. But I must speak to Mikaela while you work. Alone."

_Shit. _Mikaela had seen that coming, but she hadn't been prepared for how calm his words were. His expression held nothing – not the hot, boiling rage that Ratchet portrayed, or the bitter sadness of someone who had just been betrayed.

Nothing.

"Ratchet, begin working on Mikaela…._comrade_."

There it was. The bitterness. The way he moved his glossa and lip plates when he said those poisonous words.

As Ratchet began to wield and twist away at Megatron, muttering as he worked, Optimus gripped Mikaela by the arm and pulled her away. Up towards a towering cliff face, far enough that Ratchet could not hear their words.

Mikaela had no doubt that they would be loud.

"Sit," he said, pointing to a large boulder. Mikaela sat, fingers laced together, as Optimus towered over her like some avenging angel. Now, Mikaela could see the emotions he had been trying to hide. Regret. _Guilt_.

Always trying to put the blame on himself. Mikaela glanced at the swirling dirt around her feet, trying to stifle a sudden sob.

"Explain."

One word. Simple, but expressing so much.

"I was being stupid, okay? Rash. I did the one thing you told me _not _to do," Mikaela shook her head, more at herself than anything at else. "I couldn't take it. Sitting there. Waiting. Megatron had a plan and it was a good one, so I decided hey….why not? Why not take the risk?"

"You took it," Optimus said through clenched dental plates, "And look how you turned out?"

"I know that I'm a traitor, but I did what I had to do," Mikaela snapped back, settling down once Optimus' gaze softened.

"You could have taken a different approach."

"A different approach?" Mikaela scoffed and then looked up at him. "What different approach? Megatron may be an delusional madmech, but he was right about one thing. The whole 'do-not-harm-humans' rule? A bunch of bullshit. They're just as much of a threat to us as we are to them, and some will go to whatever measures to prove it."

"Fisher," Optimus bit her glossa, hissing out the word. "I don't particularly respect the man either, but Mikaela….trying to kill him? Inexcusable."

It was as if someone had planted a time bomb inside her, tick, tick, tick, counting down to those very words. She stood so quickly that the rocks came loose from its moorings and toppling down the hill, leaving a trail of crushed cacti and dirt in its wake.

"Do you know what he did to me?" Mikaela hissed. "Do you have any idea what he's done to me? _My_ family? _Trina's _family? Do you have _any _idea? Huh?"

Silence. Optimus stood over her, looking down, blue optics hanging low. He looked like a scolded child, with the way his arms rested limply at his side. And he, as always, had that look of guilt.

Mikaela bit back a sudden sigh and stepped closer.

"Look at me, Prime," she breathed.

He did not look.

"Prime," she said, more firmly. "Look at me."

Slowly, ever so slowly, he leveled his gaze with hers.

"I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry I had to put you through all of this. It was my fault. Not yours," Mikaela took a deep breath of morning air and said, "So wipe that guilty look off your face. You look better without it."

A nod.

"Now flash me a smile…."

The corners of Optimus' lip plates curved upward.

"Lean down," she whispered against his chest, hand pressed over his spark, feeling its steady rhythm traveling through her finger tips. She tickled at the tubes and wires underneath, feeling him buck and give a gasp of surprise. She said, "Didn't I tell you to lean down?"

"Mikaela…."

"Trust me," she whispered, and in an instant, she knew how ridiculous the words sounded. He could never trust her, after what she had done.

But still, he leaned down and gave her the sweetest, most lingering kiss against her lips. Another. Then another, letting her back rest against the cliff, nipping at her throat.

Her hands slid across his thigh, up his stomach, fingers dipping into the crooks and grooves of his armor. She remembered the rush from the last time they had touched, had pushed themselves over the edge.

She wasn't ready to do it again, and she didn't think he was, either. But he was still latching his teeth around the wires in her throat, pinning her arms above her head, against the rock. Whispering things against her neck.

"Stop," she said, breathless. "Optimus, please….s-stop."

He released her. Quickly. Jumping back as if he had been stung, hurt clearly evident on his eyes.

"We shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because…."

"Because you're afraid."

No. Because Megatron was still wounded, Fisher was still alive, Barricade was still a traitor, Sam was still gone, Trina was still out there with Soundwave.

Starscream was still dead.

It was all just too much….too much!

A scream, a sudden wail. It sounded like a mech, low, but still remarkably high and full of sheer terror.

Optimus was already bounding down the hill, Mikaela hot on his heels. They could see Ratchet's shape as he struggled under Megatron's sheer weight, the larger mech pinning his down, chest still leaking energon, fist raised and ready to strike.

Optimus drew his weapons, and Mikaela raised her hands.

"Megatron!"

Crimson optics flickered upwards. His talons had a firm grip against Ratchet's throat, holding him squirming in the dirt. The medic was shrieking undecipherable words of hate and anger, but Megatron ignored him, his eyes boring holes right into Optimus' rigid frame.

"You," he hissed.

_"You."_

Mikaela knew that in about six seconds, someone was going to end up dead. She stepped between the two mech's, spark beating wildly in her chassis.

"Megatron," she said, slowly, "Let Ratchet go."

Megatron looked down at Ratchet. Coughed, energon spilling from his lips, splattering onto the medics yellow armor.

"You're still wounded, you fool!" Ratchet snarled. Megatron's grip had slackened and Ratchet was able to kick away, crawling across the dirt to stand beside Optimus and Mikaela.

"Imbecile," he spat, more directed at Mikaela than Megatron.

Megatron's knees were shaky, but the massive hole in his chest was partly sewn up. He tried to take a step, and then collapsed back down, letting himself sag into the dirt.

"Kill me," he said, wiping away the energon. "That's what you're here for, isn't it? Finally pulling the plug, Mikaela?"

"Ratchet healed you, if you haven't noticed," Mikaela replied. "I called them to heal you. So you'd do best to thank them."

Megatron looked at Optimus and said, "Is that true, brother?"

A nod.

"And…." Ratchet cut in, "I hate to say it, but you proved to be just the specimen I needed."

Mikaela glanced at Ratchet, puzzled. Megatron did not react to being called a specimen, for he was too busy glaring at Optimus.

"What do you mean?"

"If dimwit here can just gain some self control, we should be able to sit down and discuss it as a group," Ratchet said. "But only if_ he_ cooperates."

Megatron chuckled, and, as Mikaela watched with disgust, a bubble of blue energon dribbled down his chin. He spat, and a jagged piece of metal flew from his mouth. "I'm not in any condition to fight. I might as well bend to the request of the _enemy_."

Mikaela only realized this later, but the entire time he had spoken those last words, he had been looking directly at _her_.

* * *

><p>The sun was high in the sky, blazing down upon the four present Cybertronians. Two Autobot, one Decepticon, and the other….well, the other didn't know what she was.<p>

It was odd, friends and enemies alike sitting in a circle. Megatron was on his back, letting Ratchet patch up the last of his injuries. Optimus sat beside Mikaela, hand on her thigh.

"So, what exactly did you find?" Mikaela said, leaning forward to inspect Ratchet's work. The hole was nicely patched up, the wires and tubes strung together. He lacked the equipment, for they were in the medical bay and he had only been able to carry a small amount, but it was still well done. Mikaela couldn't have done it any better.

At her question, Ratchet glanced up. He set down his tools, pushing Megatron back down when he tried to sit up, saying, "The most peculiar of bullets. These….shock sticks, as you call them? Cybertronian made."

"I knew it," Megatron said, and Ratchet shushed him. "While you've been quibbling over trivial matters, my team has been investigating the Brotherhood of Man, and their leader."

"Oh, have you, now?" Ratchet shot a caustic look in Mikaela's direction, shaking his head and then dipping it back down as he worked.

"The organization is growing stronger by the day. Its more of a cult now than a political campaign," Mikaela said. "And they have the upper hand, with Barricade on their side and all."

"Barricade and his information," Optimus pointed out. "His knowledge of Cybertronian mechanics is impeccable."

A paused. Mikaela bit her glossa, but still, the words came out. "He dismantled Starscream."

"Starscream is dead?"

"From what we've heard," Megatron added, peeking over his chassis to look at Optimus. "Either dead, or being salvaged for scrap."

"One less Decepticon to deal with," Ratchet mumbled, and then gave a cry. Mikaela at first thought that Megatron had retaliated and lashed at him, but she saw that he was holding up something in his hand. Something six feet long with a curved, pointed tip. It was coated in energon, but its faint glow was unmistakable.

"This is it," he breathed.

"That's what struck me?" Megatron spat. "That small thing? That looks more for killing humans than anything else."

"Small, but deadly," Optimus said. "The humans are using whatever resources they can."

"I thought you were so….what's the words the fleshling use….'tight'? Yes, Prime, I thought that you and the humans were 'tight.'"

"Not these humans. Every species has their Decepticons….and Autobots."

"N.E.S.T?" Megatron rapped his fist against the dirt in irritation. "The Witwicky boy? That's who you're putting your trust in, my dead brother?"

Optimus just glared at the Decepticon, and then turned to Mikaela.

"You said that you_ found_ this information. How?"

Mikaela explained about Starscream's sudden disappearance, how they had wanted to try their hand at company jacking, and how it had went wrong. How Fisher had shown up, kidnapped Garrison, had taken him. She also mentioned Trina – though not the fact that she had returned with them – and how Fisher had tried his hand at flirting and had ultimately spilled the information regarding Starscream. She then recalled their attempt at rescuing the Seeker.

Only to find out that, lo and behold, he had been killed for unknown purposes.

As soon as the last line left her mouth, the got a horrid feeling in the pit of her tanks.

A horrible, horrible thought.

"Megatron…." Mikaela whispered, and the mech tilted his head to peer at her.

"What is it?"

Silence. Optimus stared at her with curious optics, as did Ratchet, both daring her to continue.

"They said that they killed Starscream and used his parts…." Mikaela slowed down, counting off each word with a nod of the head. "Starscream is a huge mech. Not popularity wise, no, I'm talking about mass. He's a Seeker, too."

"So?"

"Fisher wants to bribe the government with Cybertronian weaponry," Mikaela glanced at Optimus. "We figured that out a while ago. But, I mean, and this is a theory….I mean, Fisher has enough money to buy all the extra parts, but what if he needs Starscream's spark and the rest of his parts to build…."

"A weapon of mass destruction?" Optimus inquired, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course. The ultimate weapon."

"A Cybertronian weapon. Or, maybe, a Cybertronian in itself," Mikaela added. "Think about it. Fisher can't really offer Barricade to the government; he needs his skills and expertise to build his armada. Creating a monstrous, no doubt mutilated proxy of one is the only way to go."

A bang. Megatron beat his fist against the dirt, and Ratchet jumped.

"The fool," Ratchet hissed. "That despicable fool."

"You see now why I wanted to get rid of him?" Mikaela said to Optimus, optics narrowing. "He's dangerous. More dangerous than any of us."

"It wasn't in your place at the time," Optimus said, and Mikaela could see the gears whirring in his head. The plans. The strategies. He got to his feet, towering over Mikaela. He helped her up and then said, "But now….I don't want to admit it, but….we must act. We must do something. Maybe not kill the human, but at least bring to light his crimes."

"You've finally got it, brother," Megatron said, hissing when Ratchet yanked at an exposed wire.

"Indeed," Mikaela said, and then looked up at Optimus. "Congratulations, Prime. We've practically just declared war on the Brotherhood of Man."


	11. Don't Shoot the Messenger

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

Mikaela nodded.

Megatron was sitting up, back pressed into the cliff face, shadows casting over his armor and causing it to lose its sparkle. His eyes just looked like two floating, glowing red orbs and Mikaela felt herself shiver. She could barely see his expression, but she could tell that his lips were pulled into a grimace.

A little ways away, Ratchet and Optimus were engaged in their own conversation, shooting Mikaela and Megatron glances every now and then.

"I have to go back," Mikaela continued, after steeling herself and meeting Megatron's optics. "Face it, Megatron, we're weak. You're still wounded. Starscream is…." She choked back a sudden sob. "You know what happened to him. Soundwave isn't the most compatible mech for battle."

"So you're the Decepticon's shining light?" Megatron said with a sneer. "Stepping up, I see. Tell me, Mikaela, which side will you choose in the end?" He leaned forward, joints creaking, a pained groan escaping his lip plates. "Which _mech_ will you choose?"

Mikaela did not answer, didn't want to fathom over it right now. Brotherhood first, romance later, she said to herself. If Megatron wanted to gripe, then he could gripe with himself.

She said, "That's not the point. The point is Jude Garrison. And Starscream."

"Starscream is–"

"I know what Starscream is, alright!" Mikaela exploded, raising her voice. At the bottom of the hill, Ratchet and Optimus swiveled their heads to look. Mikaela shot them a glance and then lowered her voice to a whisper. "But we can still avenge him. And, I promised Trina that….that I would do everything in my power to get her father back."

Megatron rolled his optics and said, "Ugh, that stupid female again….why much you waste your time protecting her?"

"Because," Mikaela said, "She's the last thing I have to protect."

Megatron snorted at this, but did not retaliate. For the first time, Mikaela got a glimpse of the _real _Megatron; worn, tattered from a lifetime of battle. He hadn't even made an effort to stand or try to walk off the pain, he just sat down and endured as if he had been doing it his entire life.

"Of_ course_," Megatron waved a hand. "You still sympathize with the meatbags."

"Not all of them. Just some."

"And what about your father, hm? Captured by the Brotherhood after a crushing betrayal….." Megatron stroked his chin. "Such a shame he never knew the real truth. The subterfuge and the deception."

Now, Mikaela's optics were darting back and forth. Through all the haze and confusion, beneath the heap of sadness, agony, betrayal….Mikaela had almost forgotten that she, Megatron, and Starscream were the only ones who knew of the original plan. By now, Ratchet would have figured out that the download data – the plan used to transport Mikaela's brain into that of a Cybertronians shell – was missing. He was a smart mech, he had probably already made the assumption that it had been Mikaela.

But what came after that, no one else knew about.

"He doesn't need to know," Mikaela said. "Neither does Trina, since I'm leaving her in _your _care."

Megatron, naturally, scoffed at that. His shoulders shook with silent laughter and he eased into the light, touching the massive hole in his chest.

"Come again?" He said, after the mirthless laughing had subsided.

"Like I said before, if things go wrong….we need leverage," Mikaela hated herself for repeating the words, but it was true. Under no circumstance would she let anything actually happen to Trina, but it was best if the other Autobots didn't know that. "Plus," she said, pacing back and forth, "She's fiery. Rebellious. And _smart_. Use her to your advantage as she'll take you a long, long way."

Megatron clapped his hands together, as if applauding.

"Such a sweet, intelligent femme," he leered. "Is Roadrunner feeding you all of this, or are you coming up with it on your own?"

"A combination," Mikaela snapped. "You should try it sometime."

"Just tell me the real reason," Megatron said, hoisting himself up onto a loose boulder. "That you insist on us keeping the human?"

Finally, Mikaela gave in and shrugged. While Trina's uses were indeed proper, there was a final reason why Mikaela didn't want to her coming along.

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "Maybe it's because I want her to teach you guys a lesson."

* * *

><p>They set out at dawn, leaving Megatron as he began to tread out into the desert in search of Soundwave and Trina. Mikaela felt bitter for leaving him, but she knew what he was capable of. The only real threats around was the Brotherhood, but Mikaela doubted Fisher would be foolish enough to attack Megatron, even while Megatron was in an injured state.<p>

Soon, her tires were squealing across asphalt and kicking up dust and dirt, Optimus taking the lead and Ratchet trailing behind Mikaela for….protection. They thought that she was going to ditch, it seemed, and Mikaela felt a stab of pain in her spark. They had every reason to be weary.

As if things would be different when they returned to the base. N.E.S.T knew of her betrayal, if not her disappearance, and all would be on guard. She could just see their stares, organic eyes and mechanical optics boring holes right into her.

The thought was unsettling, but not as unsettling as the fact that every word uttered, every accusation and insult would be true.

_Traitor. Turncoat. Freak._

Mikaela could just see it now.

_You're worrying too much, _Roadrunners low drawl sounded in Mikaela's head, and she mentally rolled her eyes.

_Like you wouldn't do the same._

Mikaela's intakes lurched as the drove through a cloud of swirling dust, Optimus' red and blue for engulfed in the brown residue before appearing once more.

_Let's not point fingers here, alright? _Roadrunner paused, and then said softly, _It's a trivial matter, really. Human insults are as blunt as their teeth. _

_But Cybertronians bite, _Mikaela pointed out. _Humans? Pffft. They wouldn't dare._

That seemed to shut Roadrunner up for a few seconds, and Mikaela felt her receding into the abyss of her brain. She'd found it increasingly hard to block out Roadrunner, and Mikaela's initial fear that one day the femme would decide to take over was still growing strong. If it did happen, then Mikaela's was as good as done.

They drove. They drove and drove, Mikaela's tanks beginning to ache. Exerting this much energy had purged her insides dry, and she yearned for at least one little sip of energon.

But she hadn't brought any with her. She had left it for Megatron, knowing that it would be harder to scavenge the abandoned mines as wounded as he was. It had been an act of kindness, and now Mikaela was beginning to regret not taking just a _small _cube with her….

No. She couldn't be so selfish. Megatron had been stabbed in the chest, for Primus' sake. His survival was key, for it would take Optimus' patience and Megatron's ruthlessness to take out Fisher. You couldn't have one without the other, and Mikaela intended to make sure that it stayed that way.

_Sure you do._

Roadrunner, again.

_I do. And if you don't like it, you can take it and shove it up –_

_Whoa, whoa, hold it! Let me finish, _a snort, and Roadrunner was saying, _You did it cause' you – wait, no, _we_ – like him._

_Are you inebriated?_

Roadrunner began to laugh, a chime in Mikaela's ear. Finally, when she had composed herself, she said, _You won't admit it. Think about it, Mikaela, he said that he loved you._

_He said that he loved _you_. Not me._

_Oh, frag it all! _Roadrunner cried, exasperated. _He loved you, then he loved me, he loved you…does it matter? All you should want is a good frag, and then be on your merry way._

Mikaela knew it. Deep, deep down she understood Roadrunner's words, but she didn't want to think about it. Roadrunner was never a fan of fidelity or anything like that. Mikaela was, but she found it hard to believe that Roadrunner would ever let her admit it.

She looked ahead, at Optimus as he sped forward. Behind her, Ratchet blasted her sirens, forcing Mikaela to speed up.

They drove, and drove, and did not look back.

* * *

><p>The base was in an uproar when they returned.<p>

Optimus and Ratchet had to shield Mikaela with their bodies as they ushered her down the hall. Soldiers saw her and began to shout. Autobots – Sunstreaker, in particular, - made their way towards her, weapons raised. Only Ironhide remained calm, leaning against the wall, mouth set in a grim line. He followed Mikaela and Optimus and Ratchet to the briefing room, not speaking a single word.

They door slid shut behind them, and the noise ceased immediately. The room hadn't changed, the walls still lined with vidscreens, the lighting still dim. Only this time, the place was open to humans, who, like their counterparts outside, weren't too happy to see her.

And two familiar soldiers, it seemed. Lennox's brown hair seemed longer and dark shadows under his eyes were prominent. Epps stood beside him, looking more composed, but portraying and even angrier expression when Mikaela walked into the room.

"This is getting worse and worse," Lennox said, dismissing Mikaela and turning to the screens. "Fisher's gained over a thousand followers in less than a week."

"Wonder who we can thank for that?" Epps murmured.

Right. Mikaela. The little Brotherhood stunt hadn't exactly gone down in their favor.

On the screen, Fisher was speaking at yet another rally. One arm hung limply at his side while the other gripped the podium, as if keeping him steady. Barricade was not behind him, but Mikaela could sense that he would soon make his usual debut.

"What do you intend that we do, Major?" Optimus asked. "He has yet to be charged with any crimes. We cannot storm in and arrest him without attracting the public's attention."

"He'll be charged with one, though," Mikaela said, stepping forward. "Capturing Jude Garrison, as well as…."

"….the murder of a Decepticon?" Ratchet said. "That's hardly a crime."

"Jude Garrison?" Epps said. "Isn't he…."

"Yeah. The rich guy," Mikaela said, cringing when Epps shot her a glare. She slunk back, doing her best to keep out of the human's sight.

"Please, Epps," Optimus pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is no time for arguing. We are in the middle of a crisis."

Epps huffed, but did not speak further.

"It's all a big mess, I know," Mikaela said. "But no matter what, Garrison has to be our_ top_ priority. As well as…." She shook her head, and then said, "From what I know, Starscream is offline. But if my theory is correct…Optimus, you remember my theory, right?"

A grim nod of the head. Lennox and Epps looked at each other, puzzled.

"We think," Mikaela began, addressing the two soldiers, "That Fisher wants to use Starscream's parts and Barricade's ingenuity to create something diabolical. A weapon, maybe. Or a new breed of mechanical soldiers. Either way, the results will be disastrous."

"And let me guess," Lennox said, tapping his chin. "You have a plan to stop him?"

Mikaela stared at the vidscreens, seeing Fisher as he raised his one good arm to salute the crowd, speaking into the microphone, filling thousand and thousand of people with insane, delusional lies.

She said, "Yep."

Silence. Nothing, nothing but the thrum of her own spark.

"What do you want us to do?" Epps said, stepping forward.

Mikaela said, "Ready your men. It's time we took the fight to _him_."


	12. Game of Deception

Mikaela stood in front of a vidscreen, lips pulled into a line, fingers brushing against Fisher's image. Even though it was just a broadcast, everyone in the room was glaring hatred, Lennox and Epps included. It struck Mikaela, suddenly, how much enmity ran between the Brotherhood and N.E.S.T.

Dangerous enmity. It only took one single action to light the fuse.

Mikaela intended to light that fuse, as she stood at the front of the room, looking down at Lennox and Epps, her eyes almost pleading for them to understand. It was just, they hadn't _been _there. They, as well as Ratchet and Ironhide, hadn't dealt with Fisher or the Brotherhood like she, Optimus, and Megatron had.

Mikaela's plan would change that, she knew. It was a brilliant plan – or so she thought – and already, she was putting together the statistics, playing it out in her head, trying to patch up every flaw.

Deception. That was her game. And instead of having Fisher play her, she was going to play him.

"It's simple," Mikaela said. "We need to get Jude. And Starscream, if possible."

"Are you suggesting that we just barge in and…."

"No," Mikaela snapped, and Ratchet reeled back. She steeled herself and said, "No. Not this time. This time….." she tapped her foot, "we need to play it smart and take out a key player."

"Barricade?" Optimus inquired.

Mikaela ignored him. She turned to Ratchet and said, "Can you pull up an image of the….Synapsis Industrial Sector?"

Ratchet twitched a finger. The vidscreen behind Mikaela flickered, and then the image expanded across the screen. The industrial unit wasn't exactly subtle; huge, bellowing smoke stacks and various drive-in locations. Slopes and curves as well, perfect for a chase.

After all, chasing was in Roadrunner's nature.

_I like where this is going, Banes, _the femme chimed in, voice laced with oily satisfaction, _I underestimated you._

"Don't mention it," Mikaela murmured, and then turned back to Optimus. "This is the only other Brotherhood HQ under Fisher's command. The rest are under government control," Mikaela grimaced. "Fisher knows that we're on him. He's not stupid; no matter what, he would have moved Garrison into a different facility as soon as Megatron and I set foot on his property. This is our only shot."

"This is_ suicide_," Lennox said, crossing his arms. A sour expression had transformed his face into something unrecognizable. "There's no way we'll be able to navigate our way through without getting spotted. I know we are larger in number, but Fisher has guys. _Trained _guys."

"And we don't?" Mikaela stared, incredulous, and then began to pace, the thunderous thud of each step bouncing off the walls of the vidroom. She finally stopped and met Lennox's eye, saying, "You guys are soldiers. _Real _soldiers. Fisher's men are just a bunch of radical nimrods looking to pass the time."

"But what about Barricade?" Optimus said. "If your mission involves such subtlety….then we cannot involve the rest of the Autobots like we normally do. Only a select few will be able to attend your…._raid_. I trust that the humans will be able to properly deal with Barricade, but casualties _will_ occur."

Mikaela shot him a wink. "I'll take care of Barricade."

_That's my girl,_ Roadrunner praised.

"He's a cop. He should be used to high speed chases," Mikaela's smile broadened, and she said, "Besides, after our last little run-in….I'm sure he'll want a fight just as much as I do."

The room was doused in an uneasy silence. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Epps shifting his feet, clearing his throat and saying, "And you can do all of this? I mean, why should we even trust you?"

"After what I've done…." Mikaela looked at the ground in shame, the guilt flooding back into her, tenfold. The angry looks, the constant shifting of the eyes and the distrustful expressions were getting to her. She said, "You shouldn't. But I can make it up to you, alright? This is something I, as well as you, care about. I'm not like them. I won't let a human rot in the hands of the Brotherhood and then sit around and laugh."

Both soldiers didn't look too convinced.

"She speaks the truth," Optimus breathed, and placed one large hand against the small of her back. "I know it."

Mikaela smiled.

* * *

><p>Mikaela had never been met with such hostility.<p>

As soon as she and Optimus exited the vidroom, the human and Cybertronian soldiers parted like the Red Sea, fanning out in all directions, putting as much space between them and Mikaela as possible. Mikaela could feel each individual stare as they bored holes into the back of her head, some even going as far as to give her the middle finger, or spit rude comments in her direction.

She had to endure it all the way down the hall, and even though Optimus treaded behind her with his hand on her back, she couldn't shake that foreign feeling off her frame. Everything was familiar, yet new. The looks that had been dismissive in the past were now full of rage and loathing.

She hated it. Hated it so much….

Optimus seemed to detect her discomfort and as soon as they entered his quarters, he slid shut the door behind her and ushered her onto his berth, where she sat on her haunches, legs swinging back and forth. Her optics refused to leave the ground, and only once did she meet Optimus' eye – just for one fraction of a second. Not even a full one.

She heard him milling around, feet clanking against the hard tiles. He heard him pouring a cup of energon, and then slowly, he reached for her fingers, pried them apart, and placed the metal cup in her hand.

"You've had a trying day," he said softly. "This should help."

She raised the cup to her lips, but did not sip. Instead, she placed it upon his desk and said, "I don't need it."

"Should I get Ratchet?"

The threat was enough. She snatched it back up and chugged it, feeling the blue liquid wash down her throat and seep into her tanks. She'd never gotten used to the taste, the bitter feeling that made it feel like some expensive wine or champagne, but still she liked it. Still, she wanted, and needed it.

She wiped her lip plates and placed the half empty cup upon his desk, finally daring to meet his eye. He was standing, eyes locked on her, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"What?" She said, and then realized that this was the first time they had been alone. Together. In the same room, with his berth so snugly close to her. They could try it, she mused, like they had last time.

Now, she was ready. Now, she'd gotten everything off her chest and was ready to do whatever was necessary to prove herself to him, to prove that she still loved and cared for him.

But even still, she couldn't help but think about him. Megatron. He and Trina and Soundwave, alone in the desert.

And Trina…oh, God, how it must have been for Trina. She might as well have starved by now. Or fallen or been attacked by some animal….anything that put her at risk, Megatron would do nothing to prevent. He'd probably find a loophole in Mikaela's threat. Push Trina off a cliff and call it an accident. And Mikaela would still be bound to him, her mind in one place, her heart in another.

She wondered what it would feel like to have him. He and Optimus were such different creatures, one gentle and loving, the other rough and full of bravado.

She wondered – not for the first time – what it would feel like to have him touch her. To trail his talons down her back, up her thigh, across those ticklish wires on her stomach and coo soft words of comfort into her ear.

"…..Mikaela?"

Mikaela's head snapped up, and she squeezed the energon cup, downing the rest of the liquid. She tossed it to the side and looked up at him, optics wide and curious.

"I know. I zoned out," Mikaela gave a chuckle, feeling the berth dip slightly due to the added weight. She let him wrap his arms around her, the rush of his intakes tickling her neck. She gave a soft sigh and said, "Those stares are getting to me."

"Ignore them," Optimus rumbled against her throat. "Sunstreaker prompted their behavior, no doubt."

"I'm gonna strangle that mech," Mikaela groaned, and then rolled her eyes, shifting so as to face Optimus directly. She extended her long, long legs and forced Prime onto his back, sliding across his waist and meeting his light, blue eyes.

She kissed him gingerly, sliding her fingers up under his chassis, brushing against his spark chamber. He gave a little gasp of surprise, but Mikaela silenced him with her lips once more.

"Shhh," she whispered into his audio receptors. "Trust me."

"You've…." He tried to steady his erratic gasp as she latched onto his throat, "You've been saying that a lot."

Mikaela sat up, leaving him writhing underneath her. His fingers tightened around her hips as if begging her to continue, but she did not. She crossed her arms and stared down at him.

"Uh-huh," Mikaela crinkled her nose. "I have, and I mean it."

"I was never doubting you," Optimus said, pulling her back down. "I never did…."

"I'm sorry."

The words were brief, as were the kisses exchanged in between. But Mikaela meant them from the bottom of her spark, which was singing with joy as Optimus pressed his fingers against her plating.

Mikaela gave a little sigh, saying, "Should we do this?"

"Only if you're ready."

"I've _been _ready."

She slid up against him, and their bodies did the rest.

* * *

><p>It was some time later when Mikaela awoke from recharge; her optics came online in a burst of light, casting an eerie blue glow on the desk and walls around the room. Her spark had calmed its frantic beating, every nerve and wire in her body tingling. Her hands were shaking and she didn't know why, maybe because of the aftereffects, maybe because she knew that she had done something irreversible.<p>

Megatron would find out.

Why was she scared? She shouldn't have been scared. Optimus was Megatron's worst nightmare, the one mech who could put him down.

The one mech who could steal something from him and live to tell the tale.

Mikaela wasn't stupid. No. She had experienced jealousy, whether it was her, or someone else. Someone always acted. Someone always played with fire, and ended up getting burned. Megatron was no different from his human counterparts when it came to revenge and loathing.

But why did having Optimus pressed against her, arms wrapped securely around her waist, optics dim, a calm, steady breeze drifting from his parting lips and brushing against the back of her neck, make her feel so nervous. It was as if someone were watching. Eyes observing from the darkness, waiting and waiting and waiting…..

No. It couldn't be. It was just some deranged, insane nightmare from which she would never awaken.

Mikaela stirred, but Optimus' grip did not slacken. She would have to sleep with him for the rest of the night, and while the though was comforting, the aftermath in itself had her utterly terrified.

Megatron would find out. And he would look and look and look for her, and eventually find her.

And he wouldn't stop until Mikaela was _his_.


	13. She Had Time

"I think it's time that you and I finally got down to business."

The woman sitting in front of Mikaela was probably the only human – other than Fisher, of course – who demanded such respect from her Cybertronian allies. She was the authoritative figure in the room at the moment, sitting in a steel chair, shuffling through papers on a steel desk and still refusing to meet Mikaela's eye.

Or maybe it was the other way around.

Charlotte Mearing was, indeed, a scary, scary woman.

Her eyes, though cold and piercing, lacked any discernible luster. Even her expression was stoic, though when she did gain the courage to look Mikaela in the optic, the corner of her mouth twitched upward, as if Mikaela were some nasty creepy-crawly that belonged on the bottom of her shoe, rather than a tall, proud, human-turned-Cybertronian.

It wasn't a look Mikaela got often, especially from humans. She sat in a larger chair, hands in her lap, staring down at the human and resisting the urge to bolt.

Why had she been called here? Optimus had dragged her out of recharge, speaking briefly about a "secure government administrator" who was more than happy to take time out of, what must have been at the time, a busy schedule to speak with her. And that didn't happen often. Only a select few actually _knew_ that Mikaela had once been human, and only a few had been chosen to associate with – or more like reprimand – her.

And, of all the administrators out there, it just had to be Charlotte Mearing.

Government policies were such a bitch.

"Do you know why I've called you here?" Mearing said, adjusting her spectacles and staring up at Mikaela, mouth pulling into a line, disdain swimming in her lusterless eyes.

Mikaela shook her head, and then said, "I thought it was so we could get to know each other. You know, girl talk and all that shit?"

Mearing was not amused by her joke.

"We will not be engaging in such chat," Mearing cleared her throat. "Not now, anyways. No, Miss Banes, I came here because a _certain_ individual chose me to act as his proxy."

Mikaela's throat went dry.

"The President is not pleased," Mearing said through clenched teeth, leaning forward. "Not pleased at all. And can you guess who is the cause of his discomfort?"

"Me," Mikaela mumbled, and then dropped her head. Shame was causing her cheeks to blaze. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of enduring Mearing's scrutinizing gaze, she said, "But listen, lady, you need to get the details. _All_ the details."

"What did you just say?"

Mikaela's voice was rising. She lifted her head and met Mearing's dark orbs, saying, "I did what I did because I was under the influence of another force."

Right. Because rage counted.

She went on with, "What are you going to do to me?"

Silence. The question seemed to hang in the air, Mearing staring Mikaela dead on with lifeless, black eyes.

"Listen," she said, "I am under the President. He, in turn, is under no one. I don't give the orders, but if it were up to me…." She shook her head. "I'd lock you away in the closest, most protected government facility for the rest of you ridiculously long life. You are a threat to national security, as well as a threat to the soldiers on this base."

Bullshit. She had yet to hurt a single non-Brotherhood related human.

"Due to the fact that you willingly associated with the Decepticon's, you are also being labeled as a threat to the human race," Mearing was reading off her papers, glasses tilted, eyes narrowed. "These are the President's beliefs, Miss Banes."

Mikaela snorted a laugh. "So, what? Listen, if you're going to lock me up, lock me up. It won't be helping anyone."

Mearing's eyes flickered up from the papers to graze over Mikaela's stern face and hardened complexion. She said, "I only said what it would be like if it were up to me," she slapped the folder onto the desk, a hallow clang echoing through the grey-walled chamber. "My superior thinks otherwise."

Mikaela looked up, eyes widening.

"He wants to give you a second chance, despite your previous transgressions," Mearing braced her elbows against the steel desk, voice dropping to a low whisper. "And you'd better do you best not to fuck it up, Banes, because this is the last warning you will get."

"What are the terms?" Mikaela said briskly.

She flipped through the folder, pursing red lips as she did so. She said, "You must, and will return home Jude Garrison, alive and unscathed," Mearing smirked.

"And if I don't?"

"The rest of your existence will be spent in the hands of the government," Mearing shot Mikaela a caustic smile, saying, "And you know how all that goes down."

Mikaela did, but she didn't want to think about it.

Instead, she said, "The mission is already set. The plans are drawn. You can tell your boss," Mikaela choked on the words when she realized just who exactly she was referring too, "Tell him that I'll take whatever punishment he has to give me."

"Even if it means your permanent removal from the Autobot faction?"

"You can't do that."

"We _can_," Mearing tried to suppress her grin, but failed. "_We_ are in control. Optimus and his men came to _our _Earth, planted their roots in _our_ government. It is only fair, Miss Banes, that _we_ have the upper hand at all times."

"Look," Mikaela spread out her hands, saying, "You obviously do have the upper hand, alright? I won't argue about that. But we have a bigger problem than _my _credibility. There is a man out there, a man who is gaining more and more power with each passing hour…." Mikaela steadied her voice, saying, "You government people are smart. Caine Fisher? Yeah, well, he's _smarter_."

After what the Brotherhood had accomplished, Mikaela had told herself that under no circumstance would she underestimate Fisher's brilliance. He surpassed Starscream's cunningness. If he kept up a ruthless streak, he would surpass even Megatron.

Mearing ought to know that. She had read the files, had seen the videos. While she was one of many who had never come in contact with the Brotherhood's leader, it was safe to say that she was one of the few who could – or should – understand what exactly the organization was capable of.

But she wasn't showing it. She was leaning back in her chair, arms crossed, mouth curled upward in a nasty frown.

"Are your files really_ that_ complete?" Mikaela asked

incredulously, jerking a chin toward the stacks of papers. "I mean, what's all in there?"

It has nothing to do with you, or me, for that matter," Mearing replied bitterly. "It has to do with the state of out nation. The state of the world. And the President, as well as I, believe that you are a threat to both. Bottom line. One more mistake, one more slip up, and we will haul you out of here."

Mikaela could only reply with a nasty glare, which Mearing quickly returned.

"We will be monitoring you, Miss Banes," Mearing said, standing and shuffling her papers, folding them and tucking the documents under her arm. "So watch yourself."

She walked out the door, letting it click shut behind her.

Mikaela sat in her metal chair, fist squeezing the arm so hard that the metal bent and flexed under her grip.

She didn't move.

Just sat.

* * *

><p>"I expected as much," Ratchet said coolly, examining the slide before him, small beams of light shooting from his optics and scanning the small organism. It was his pastime, Mikaela realized. Analyzing cells because he didn't have anything else to do. Optimus had closed himself to the world, refusing to talk to almost anyone.<p>

Ratchet slid the plating back into its capsule and then turned to face Mikaela fully. This was the first time, Mikaela observed, that they were utterly alone. Ratchet, hip cocked to the side and looking less than bored at her statement, Mikaela sitting on the medical berth, swinging her legs back and forth, out of nervousness.

But, what was there to be nervous about? Ratchet was one of the few Autobots she felt comfortable talking to…..

Oh, that's right, he still hated her. It didn't matter if he hadn't stated it directly. Mikaela could see the disdain swimming in his optics.

Mikaela resisted the urge to cover her head with her hands and weep.

Ratchet said, "It's the rules of N.E.S.T. You two warnings. Two strikes and you're out."

"They only gave me one strike," Mikaela said.

"You're crimes are much too monumental to be overlooked. Plus, I doubt you even deserve…."

"A second chance," Mikaela cut him off. "I know, I know. I did something unforgivable."

"Not to mention," Ratchet stepped forward, voice laced with a razor edge, "You did something that inexplicably put the Autobot faction at the governments mercy. Because of you, General Morshower may never trust us again. Because of you, the Brotherhood has gained a thousand new followers, with more flowing in by the minute….."

"Alright, stop, stop," Mikaela raised her hands. "I know the details."

"Then _why_?" Ratchet said gruffly, his lip plates quivering. "_Why_ did you do it?"

She had been asked that question so many times. By Optimus. By Trina. By herself, more than enough times. The looks from Lennox and Epps and the rest of the soldiers, human and Autobot alike, asked her the same thing.

Why?

Mikaela said, dipping her head, "You have every right to hate me."

"I am aware of that."

"I didn't know what I was doing," she continued, her voice lowered to a whisper. "Roadrunner was angry. I was angry. Megatron was….well, you know. Bottom line is, I was angry. At a lot of people."

"And you needed someone to take it out on?"

"This has nothing to do with Fisher," Mikaela said, looking up. "Face it, we _all _want to skewer the little bastard."

The way he bit his lip plates spoke volumes about how much he agreed.

Mikaela leaned forward, ushering for Ratchet to come closer. The yellow mech braced his arms against the berth, and Mikaela tilted her head as to stare at him.

"I had a theory, a while ago," she said quietly. "A theory about Optimus and why….why he ordered you to bring me back to life instead of letting me die."

Ratchet raised an optic ridge, but did not comment.

"Now that I realize what Optimus has suffered…given up for me, I get that my theory is stupid," Mikaela steeled herself, and then met Ratchet's blue orbs. She said, "I thought that….the only reason he brought me back was because of Roadrunner. Because he still loved her, and even though my mind wasn't hers, I still_ looked_ like her, and that was enough for him."

Mikaela paused, expecting an inevitable outburst. Maybe even a wrench to the back of the head. Mikaela wasn't sure, but all she anticipated – all she wanted, really, just to confirm her suspicions – was an outburst of some kind, a testimony on Optimus' behalf.

Instead, Ratchet said calmly, "That's not true."

"I didn't think it was," Mikaela said, shaking her head. "But back then? I just needed a reason to make sure that it wasn't true. He came after me, he tried to save me, almost sliced my neck doing so….but he cared."

"And you abandoned him."

Ratchet's words were harsh and full of anger, but his grip on the medical berth did not slacken. He was looking into Mikaela's optics, boring holes right into her head.

"Yeah," Mikaela said softly, "I guess I did. And that was the biggest mistake."

Ratchet eased back. Crossed his arms, and stared at Mikaela with mild fascination. He said, "And because of that, N.E.S.T is more alert than ever. I don't know what exactly transpired with Mearing behind those doors – I don't trust that you'd tell me the truth, anyway – but I know one thing. You have _time_."

"Yeah, time that I have to spend rescuing Garrison," Mikaela spat. "We're moving out tomorrow. Optimus already issued the order, but I'm still running the operation."

Ratchet spread his arms out wide and said, "You've had much more experience dealing with the Brotherhood that I have, Mikaela. I hate to say it, but you're the ideal person to choose when it comes to a mission like this."

Mikaela hopped off the berth, knees absorbing the impact. She shook her door wings, striding towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Ratchet asked, but he let her pass.

"We're leaving in less than twenty-four hours," she replied. "Optimus may need some help getting his men ready. I think its time that I gave something back to him, anyway."

Ratchet nodded in apprehension.

"Oh, and Ratchet?" Mikaela asked, stopping

"What?"

"I just want you to know….that….I was never angry at _you_."

A ghost of a smile formed on Ratchet's lips.


	14. Breakdown

**"This not how I imagined it to be."**

**"No shit, Sherlock."**

**"Watch it, Mikaela."**

Mikaela resisted the urge to reel back at Optimus' words, and then roll her eyes. More at herself than at Optimus, really. She was being a bitch, and she couldn't help it. Sarcasm was one of her main strengths.

That, and the ability to keep absolutely still, even while in the confines of her alt mode. The Industrial Unit was massive, like one gigantic spiraling city that lay across a mile of flat terrain. Thick, white smoke blotted out the moon, hanging heavily in the air. Mikaela and the rest of the team were still flattened against the ground, so the putrid gas barely bothered them.

Optimus' engine flared to life beside her. Ratchet had stayed back at the gates for medical support, it needed. Only two military Humvees accompanied Mikaela and Optimus, Lennox and Epps secured in the one flanking Optimus.

What a joyous little band they were, Mikaela mused as she inched forward.

She heard a noise; it was her comm crackling to life, the voice of Lennox filling her ears. She glanced back and saw that Epps, too, was adjusting his earpiece.

**"Are we going to get this over with or what?" **Lennox asked, almost impatiently.

**"Sure," **Mikaela said after a subtle roll of her optics. She said, **"Just like we discussed. I split and go attract Barricade's attention. Once he's away from the entrance, you guys slip in and out. Quickly. Optimus?"**

**"Yes, Mikaela?"**

**"Raise hell."**

Her tires squealed against the dirt, and she left the convoy at the entrance. Already, her tanks were churning at the thought of this going wrong. She was to orchestrate everything according to plan, with no slip ups, nothing like that. They couldn't afford something to happen to Garrison.

Mikaela had no doubt that, if the situation called for it, Fisher would result to more drastic measures.

It wasn't hard to picture the Honorable Caine E. Fisher leveling a pistol and blasting off Jude Garrison's head.

Mikaela sped up as the thought began to dig its roots deeper into her troubled mind. Each building passed by in blurs, the only noise the soft thrum of her engine and the grinding of heavy machinery.

She had yet to see a single worker. Though it was nighttime, some had to stay around and make sure the operations ran smoothly, right? Or something like that.

More importantly, Mikaela had yet to see _him_. Barricade. The police menace wasn't stretched out across any roofs like last time, basking in the moonlight.

He was probably cooped up inside with Fisher, much to his chagrin.

She turned a sharp corner, and then screeched to a stop, the noise echoing off the towering smoke stacks and thrumming buildings. She transformed swiftly, taking in her surroundings. The walls around her seemed to rise up into the overhanging clouds, massive, thick structures that hummed with energy. Their surface was black and covered in a fine layer of soot and ash.

She resisted the urge to cough, stumbling forward on her pedes. She wiped her mouth and treaded lightly through the dirt, sensors on overdrive. Anything that moved, anything at all was a target, and more than once she found herself spinning, weapons raised, aiming them at a small rodent as it scurried out of sight.

She sighed and let her arms drop to her side. Paranoia. It did that to you.

She looked up at the sky, the wind caressing her face. The lights from the towers overhead swept back and forth, but none caught Mikaela in their beam. She simply ducked behind the buildings and waited for them to pass.

As she continued to walk, she began to search. Search for something that could alert the attention of the guards. Shooting into the air wouldn't do justice. Plus, she wanted this place damaged in every way possible; just for old times sake.

In fact, she wanted to raze the place to the ground, along with everyone in it. It was Roadrunner's rage, fueled with Mikaela's own, and for a moment she didn't think she would be able to….

There.

Oh, perfect. Absolutely perfect.

It was a communications tower of sorts, spiraling from the top of a building, lights blinking in a rhythmic pattern. Mikaela could feel the thrum of energy from all the way on the ground, and it filled her with a giddy happiness once she realized what exactly it was calling her to do.

She latched long talons on the side of the brick building and began to heave herself up. Up, up, up until she could brace a leg against a loose piece of brick and throw her body onto the roof. The thud the impact emitted was sure to wake the workers in the building beneath her, but it didn't matter. The place was going to go up in flames, anyway.

Mikaela approached the tower with steady steps, bunching up her knees in case she needed to make a bounding escape. She touched a finger to the cool metal, and then curled her hand around one of the support beams.

**"Prime?" **she opened the link.

**"Yes, Mikaela?"**

**"Get ready to drive."**

Mikaela gripped the beams, looking up. The thing was tall, up close, and no doubt heavy. But she had Roadrunner, as well as her own strength. She could do it.

She had to do it.

With a cry, she began to push. Her talons bit into the metal, twisting it, bending it in two. Her sharp fingers accidentally cut through a lone wire, and half the lights on the tower went dark, and several flared red, as if in warning.

A horrendous wail that sounded more like a moaning phantom than bending metal. The structure swayed, and as Mikaela pushed, joints popping, the wires and tubes in her arms bulging like sinew stretched taut, it began to tilt to the side.

An explosion. A burst of sirens.

She heard the roar of an engine, and she saw, half a mile across the Industrial Unit, Optimus as he and the Humvee's sprang to life.

**"You're clear! Go!" **Mikaela shouted.

Mikaela released the tower and let gravity take control, just as a long, grizzly hand slammed into the roof. In the darkness, Barricade's red orbs seemed to glow like blood, and Mikaela found herself turning just in time to see him bound towards her.

She parried a blow, and then dove, just as the tower crashed into the dirt passage below, part of it shattering upon impact. The noise was like the end of the world and almost immediately lights burst to life, the guard force suddenly beginning to react.

Mikaela ran, took a few steps, and then threw herself over the deep passage, over the smoking control towers as it burst into flames, and onto the next roof.

"You want some?" She screamed, her voice carried by the wind. Barricade's claws twitched and his optics narrowed. "I'm going to pound you, you big, _stupid _brute! For _Megatron_!"

_Oh, come now, _Roadrunner chimed in. _You can do better than that._

"Come and get me!" she cried. "Come and get me!"

Barricade lunged.

Mikaela dodged.

His feet scraped against the tiled floor, and he smashed into a smoke-bellowing chimney. Little stone chips flew, and the noise echoed like a clap of rolling thunder.

Mikaela stuck out her glossa in Barricade's direction.

Barricade turned, enraged, and flew at Mikaela's with blurry fist. The mech had spark, Mikaela gave him that, but she remembered the fight between him and Bumblebee. His attacks weren't full of finesse and tact, like Megatron's. His fist could punch a hole through metal, but only if he managed to land a hit.

Dodging was easy. Returning the blows? Not so much.

Barricade thundered towards her, a featureless black silhouette. His talons looked eager to rip Mikaela open, and with a cry of satisfaction she threw her entire body off the roof.

She was transforming before her feet even hit the ground, and was off as soon as her hood snapped into place. She adjusted her side mirrors and saw Barricade's for doing the same, transforming as he leaped.

Mikaela skidded through dirt and ash, hearing the eruption of gunfire. As she streaked past another corner she saw Optimus' hulking form as he fought a horde of guards.

**"Good," **Mikaela said. **"Keep em busy."**

**"I shall."**

Mikaela revved her engine and streaked past a dozen or so startled guards as they made their way towards the conflict, Barricade right on her heels. His sirens were blaring but Mikaela made no intention of slowing, or even stopping, for that matter. She was just trying to draw him away so the humans could do their work, and they could go home with Jude and never come back….

A cry. A shock stick whizzed out of the shadows, skidding across her roof and sending sparks jumping across the red metal.

Mikaela transformed, and, using her momentum, hurtled herself up onto the nearest roof. She landed, drawing her knees up into a roll, and then turned to find herself staring at Barricade's swinging fist.

Metal against metal. Mikaela had brought up her forearm just in time, but his sharp talons slipped past her guards and drew and splash of hot energon.

She hissed in pain, and lashed out with a kick to his stomach.

Taking advantage of his momentary position – doubled over, clutching his abdomen – Mikaela turned and began to bound towards the edge of the roof. She tensed her mechanical muscles and then jumped as high as she could, arcing through the air before crashing into the shingled roof. The impact was like an explosion, pieces of masonry cracking and sliding onto the dirt ground below.

She heard the whirring of a cannon, and then a shot. The ground in front of her exploded, opening up a hole and giving Mikaela view of the startled workers below.

She cursed and scrambled back. Barricade fired, again and again, each time his shot sailing wide.

"Shit!"

**"Mikaela!" **Optimus cried. **"The humans have made it inside the tunnel!"**

**"Right to Fisher's doorstep," **Mikaela replied bitterly, rolling to the side as the roof exploded into a fiery inferno. The flames licked at the sky, distorting Barricade's striding figure, turning it into nothing more than a hazy blur. She watched for a moment, and then scrambled away.

She jumped again, and along the way, managed to smash her fist into a smoking chimney. It fell thirty feet into the dirt below, sending up a cloud of dust.

She landed with a crash that split the material beneath her feet and jarred the entire structure. Windows exploded into showers of spiraling glass when Barricade jointed her, talons twitching, anxious to curl around her throat.

The two Cybertronians circled each other like battling wolves.

Mikaela made the first move, tackling Barricade like a linebacker. She wrapped arms around his torso and then tumbled off the roof, onto the ground below. She heard something in Barricade's leg snap, but she didn't care. All she cared about was keeping him occupied, keeping him away from the chaos.

**"Breaching!" **Lennox shouted through the link, and Mikaela braced herself as Barricade's talons gripped her face, obscuring one eye.

Through the link, she heard the sound of an explosion.

Then more to follow.

**"Lennox?"**

No answer.

**"Lennox? Epps?" **It was Optimus, his voice urgent. Mikaela could see across the complex, see the raging fires and smell the staccato of gunfire.

**"Lennox and Epps, do you copy?" **Mikaela said shakily. She and Barricade had their palms mashed together, one trying to keep the other off. Mikaela's arms and legs were shaking, but nothing could compare to the overwhelming pain regarding what exactly was going on.

**"Jackson, Graham, Sanderson," **Optimus shouted. **"Does anyone copy?"**

Nothing.

Not for the first time, Mikaela felt her spark go cold.

Her distraction gave Barricade the upper hand and he was able to shove her away. She crashed into the opposite wall and went all the way through, stumbling into old equipment and sending the humans screaming away from the area. As the dust and dirt settled around her, choking her intakes, she saw Barricade storm through the hole, weapons ready.

She fell back, the world a blur around her, and transformed.

His talons brushed against her roof, but she was off.

She fishtailed, and then whipped around to face him, speeding under his spread legs before emerging once more into the night. She saw Barricade's police cruiser form burst from the hanging dust, pursuing her once more.

**"Fuck!" **She cursed. **"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"**

No one had responded. She could see a cloud of dust billowing from the east side of the complex, where the humans were to enter.

No one had responded. She had heard the explosion and no one had responded….

No.

No, it couldn't be true.

Mikaela heard the wail of the sirens, the gunfire. Bypassed startled soldiers, and more than once pretended not to hear their cries.

There was only the mission, right?

She should have seen it coming.

The largest building in the entire complex loomed up into view, and Mikaela, noticing that Barricade's form was hanging back, pulled to a stop and transformed. She stumbled forward, hand against her helm, trying to grasp the situation.

"What's wrong?" Barricade sneered. "Has the thrill of the fight gotten to your head?"

"Fuck. Off."

Barricade laughed.

It started out as a slow rumble, and then the scream of an alarm. Mikaela clapped her hands over her ears and Barricade fell back onto his rear, shock evident on his features.

Shock that turned into absolute triumph.

Mikaela heard the roof over the building before her start to open, but the creature was eager to get out. She remembered it. But too this day, she could never recall what exactly she had done….

She had fallen back, the gunfire receding into the depths of her mind. Even Roadrunner was in some type of shock, her numbness creeping up Mikaela's legs, immobilizing her.

Something roared. Like a dragon. Like a gigantic dragon.

The leg came first. It was as thick – no, thicker – than the oldest Redwood tree. Made of metal, with a soft brown countenance littered with Cybertronian glyphs and symbols. Then, another leg, a jagged metal limb that clasp onto the edge of the roof.

Mikaela saw the arch of its back roll, tremors wracking its entire frame. The spikes on its back were made of metal, as was its dull brown hide. The creature whipped a long tail back and forth, crushing several of the building behind it into paste.

Barricade was laughing, but Mikaela barely heard the noise.

The head came next.

Oh, God, it was awful. Oh, God, help me, help me, Mikaela thought.

_What in the name of Primus….._Roadrunner breathed.

It's head was the head of the beast. Like the head of Medusa ,beautified, and then cast away. Maimed. Mikaela had never seen such an awful snout, had never seen such horrific, yet organized incisors that could slice Optimus Prime in half. It's massive head and long neck was that of a dragon, made of metal, brown etched with symbols. But it was deformed, almost, and held such cruelty and crude engineering that Mikaela couldn't help but wonder….

And its eyes. She noticed the eyes.

Oh, no, no, no, no….

She recognized those two crimson optics. Identical, and she remembered them running across her body with contempt and praise and loathing and lust….

She recognized Starscream's eyes.

A scream wriggled its way through her chest and out of her mouth. A noise. A hideous wail.

She couldn't stop screaming.

**"Mikaela!"**

Optimus.

**"Mikaela, pull yourself together!" **Optimus bellowed. **"Focus! _Focus_!"**

_It has his optics, _Roadrunner moaned, her voice a racking sob. _It has his optics…._

Mikaela felt herself transforming automatically, out of fear of habit or whatever it was that instructed her joints to shift, change positions, gears lining themselves up and locking into their moorings. Her hood snapped into place and her doors swung and locked, her engine kicking to life.

The creature roared and leaped, part of the structure beneath its feet crashing to the ground.

It spread massive, veiny wings and drifted, snapping at Mikaela's bumper as she streaked away.

**"What happened?" **Optimus shouted. **"What happened?"**

**"Retreat," **Mikaela panted. **"Hang back at the entrance with Ratchet."**

**"What are you planning on doing?"**

**"I'm rescuing Garrison, that's what I'm doing."**

She drifted towards the east. Towards the settling dust.

Silence. The gunfire had died down to a slow crawl.

**"Mikaela?"**

**"Yes?"**

**"Do what you have to do," **Optimus gave a scratchy sigh. **"And stay safe."**

Then, he was gone.

Mikaela knew that it was a stupid idea, even without Barricade chasing her. She could hear the dragon's roars as it receded back into its lair. She could see the guards, wounded, stumbling and cursing where and leaving Optimus' alt mode to speed off in the opposite direction.

She could hear the explosion, moments earlier, that could have ultimately sealed the fate of Lennox, Epps, and the rest of the N.E.S.T soldiers.

All real. And she would find them.

Even if they were alive, or not.


	15. Let's Make a Deal

The darkness was coming to get her.

That was how she felt, descending down into the tunnel. Feet scraping against bits and pieces of loose stone, feeling as if the walls around her were closing in, closer, closer, suffocating her even though she didn't need to breath. It was all to much, to much paranoia, too much fear…

Fear was palpable. Mikaela knew that. She could sense it in the air, hanging all around her like some sort of veil. She was unable to obscure herself from it, and even if she could, would she? Fear, Optimus had told her once, was something she had to face. Sometimes alone, sometimes not.

Mikaela had never felt more alone. The concrete wall of the tunnel was her only guide, the glare from her optics the only light.

She could feel the aftershocks from the explosions, the way the tunnel rocked and swayed and farther off, a noise, like tumbling rock.

The air was thick with acrid smoke. Debris had piled up along the tunnel, and Mikaela had to shove several slabs away to continue making her way down into the dank underground, where she was sure Fisher and his men were waiting.

Like it mattered. She sifted through the rubble and found nothing but rock, rock, and more rock. She had yet to find a single human body and a small part of her wondered how close to the detonation point they had been. Too close, they would have been vaporized. Close but far, they would have been blown back at least a few feet.

If the latter of the matter was the truth, then she should have no trouble finding them….

Ah. There. She saw it.

A boot attached to a twisted leg.

She usually didn't memorize people legs, but she knew immediately who it belonged to. Skinny ankle. Tan flesh.

Graham.

He was dead, so Mikaela wasn't going to make an effort to move the rock. She didn't want to. Couldn't bring herself to reach down and push away the long slab that had crushed his skull and torso. She knew what she would find.

She stifled a sudden, inevitable sob, and continued on.

Down she walked. Deeper. Deeper into the tunnel, until there was no light, just the glare of her optics and no sound but the violent thrum of her own spark. She saw the charge of energy as she readied her blaster, sweeping it back and forth, as if expecting for Barricade to burst through at any moment.

Who knew? It was possible. She hadn't seen him after she'd left behind that hideous monster, had no idea if he had escaped or not.

Whatever. Barricade, Fisher, she didn't stand a chance against any of them. She talked the talk, but walking the walk? To hell with that.

She was in a panic-induced haze, now. She'd made the call without thinking.

Just like last time.

Mikaela winced as the roof above her shuddered, rocks falling and tinkering against her armor. She continued on, the air around her a stifling denseness. One hand groped the wall and another continued to train her weapon on anything, everything in the darkness.

She lost her footing and crashed into the ground. She felt rock give way beneath her feet and tumble into a drop below.

The tunnel had sloped dramatically, and Mikaela was just at the top. But that was the thing; she couldn't see two feet in front of her. Who knew if the drop was two feet, or twenty?

Mikaela steeled herself, readied her weapon, and blasted the air.

The flash, the explosion of energy illuminated the tunnel just for a split second. Mikaela saw the dirt that descended downwards in an elegant drop.

Mikaela smiled and continued forward.

It took her a moment to reach the door. It was human sized, locked, and in an instant Mikaela had shoved a finger into the steel, widening a hole and peering through with curious optics.

What she saw was not what she had hoped for.

The barrel of a gun, aimed at her eye, and a determined, confident, _honeyed_ human voice cooing threats.

"Freeze, motherfucker. Or die."

They led her into the tavern with hostility. Dozens and dozens of human, all clad in the same white uniform, their weapons trained on Mikaela, paining her in red dots as the guns searched for a target, a sensitive place to take her out.

She walked in, hands above her head, slowly. As soon as she entered the light, she grimaced and squinted, whiteness blinding her for just a moment.

And then, she adjusted. And she saw the humans, saw the one of them, one discolored, mutilated hand shoved into the pockets of his suit, the other holding a pistol that was leveled and aimed.

Aimed at the head of Jude Garrison.

It was as if he had set it up just right. As if he had known Mikaela would have been coming and had gathered an entire welcoming party to greet her.

But unlike a party, none of the guest looked amused.

Mikaela said the first thing that came to her mind. "I come in peace."

"Of course you do," Fisher drawled. "If not, we would have killed you on the spot."

Mikaela glanced down at Jude's unconscious form. Saw the way he was strewn out like a shattered marionette, blood dripping from his nose, drool dribbling down his chin. His lips looked blue, as if he had been deprived of air.

"It's a miracle what a little electricity can do," Fisher nudged Garrison with his foot, smirking when the man groaned, but did not stir. "And a little C4. Tell me, Miss Banes, did you find any bodies?"

Rage. Hot, seething rage traveled from Mikaela's brain, right down to her spark.

She was going to kill this man. Put him down like the animal he was.

But the guns, the initial realization that if she so much as _flinched_ she would be shot, pumped with shock-sticks and then left to die, stopped her from moving.

Calm, she told herself. Calm and collected….

"Just one," she whispered.

"The rest must be buried under all that rock…." Fisher tapped his chin, as if thinking to himself. His grin broadened and he looked down at Garrison's shaking, sobbing frame and said, "It would be a shame if a man as rich as this had to join them."

Another barrier snapped. Mikaela felt her control ebbing away, piece by piece.

"Touch him, and I will kill you."

"Try to kill me, and you'll get the biggest shock of your life," Fisher gestured to the double-barrel guns his guards were holding, all trained on Mikaela. One missed step, one faltered word, and she would be reduced to a smoking, writhing heap of metal and electricity. None of them seemed the least bit remorseful, but full of adrenaline and vigor. Their fingers hovered over the trigger, ready, waiting.

"You're sick."

"And you don't belong here," Fisher narrowed his eyes, glancing towards the tunnel. "You're a smart creature, Miss Banes. You wouldn't have made the trek down here without reason. So tell me, what is it you want?"

"I want the man kneeling before you."

Garrison stirred, and then one eye fluttered open. He looked at Mikaela, his lips curling into a horrifying pantomime of stark fear, and he opened his mouth the scream.

The butt end of Fisher's pistol cracked against his skull, and he was out again.

Mikaela winced at the noise. The guards just shifted closer, as if expecting her to lunge. But she just kept her cool, steadied the violent beat of her spark, and said quietly, "You didn't have to do that."

"What does it matter?" Fisher said to her. "One of you is going to be dead, anyway. And you make the call, Miss Banes."

"Me for him," Mikaela said, already disliking the way it sounded. But, it didn't matter, did it? She was useless to the Autobots, shunned by her own faction. Mearing had made it clear that she was to use every force, every asset at her taking to rescue Garrison. So, why not use herself as leverage?

She knew, deep in her spark, that, to Fisher, she was more valuable than Garrison. So why make Trina's father suffer?

And that was the other thing. Trina. Mikaela had promised – and she couldn't bear to think about breaking a promise to Trina – that she would bring her father home safe. Even if this was the way to do it.

"You're proposing a trade?"

"Something like that," Mikaela shifted nervously on one foot and said, "You are a man of your word, Fisher," she put in a tad bit of sickening admiration, hoping that she could flatter him the way he had tried to flatter Trina. "That, I know."

He nodded.

"So, do we have a deal?"

"What about your precious Prime?" Fisher replied bitterly. "I would have thought, being a creature of subterfuge and deception, that you would have offered me the head of Optimus Prime instead."

Mikaela gave him a fake pout and said, "What? Am I not good enough?"

The way Fisher's lips curved into that signature smile of his, shark-like, yet filled with a honeyed malice, it sent shivers down Mikaela's spine. More startling was the fact that he was a _human_. A human! A simple little ball of flesh and blood, and yet he had Mikaela Banes, the Queen of Deception, had her legs shaking like a scared puppy.

Truly remarkable. Megatron had, indeed, underestimated the human race entirely.

"No, no. You're contributions to the Brotherhood are truly more than I had hoped for," Fisher waved a hand, and two of the men rushed forward out of the shadows, gripping Garrison and dragging his bloody, unconscious form towards the exit.

"Dump him and let Prime take care of the rest," Fisher glanced at Mikaela, noticing her raised eyebrows. He rolled his eyes and said, "And whatever you do, don't engage them in combat. We've had far too much of that for one night, and much too many casualties to count."

Mikaela's fist clenched when she thought of the humans, Lennox, Epps, Graham, Jackson, and Sanderson.

Starscream.

All dead.

She wanted to bellow in rage and terror. She wanted to raze everything to the ground, everything that made the world full of pain and fear and loss.

But she couldn't do that. Not while Optimus was still alive and Megatron was still with Trina, the only human on Earth right now that Mikaela cared deeply about. Not while Ratchet was still sulking and while the government was trying to find a way to imprison her forever and ever.

Now was the time to act.

Mikaela let them level their weapons on her, and watched as the two guards dragged Garrison by his feet up through another exit, out a set of double doors.

**"Mikaela?"**

Optimus' voice was laced with worry. Good. He had every reason to be worried.

**"Your package is arriving. But be wary."**

She shut him off before he could protest.

"Now," Fisher clapped his hands together, breaking the eerie silence and saying, "I think its time you and I had a little talk. Barricade?"

Mikaela hadn't even heard the mech sneak up behind her, emerging from the tunnel and hiding out in the shadows, watching the entire exchange. But by the time she was swinging around, mouth open in a cry of anguish and alarm, he was swinging his fist in a wide arc, catching her in the side of the head and robbing her of her words and the ability to think.

Lights out.


	16. Wicked

"Wakey, wakey, Autoscum."

Mikaela felt the pressure, the explosion of light as her head snapped to the side. She had been slapped. Slapped by a metal, calloused hand that felt as if it had been smothered in acid. Hot pinpricks of pain traveled down her neck and into her chest, causing her spark to increase its steady pace.

Her neck stung. Her optics felt heavy, like lead, and she made a small noise in the back of her throat that sounded like a wounded pig. Or maybe a cat. Or something, because she could barely hear, except for the muffled sounds of conversation. One light and unassuming, the other heavy and laced with sarcasm.

Finally, she opened up and got a glimpse of the world around her.

Everything was grey. Grey walls, grey ceiling and floor, and in the center of the room, sitting like some kind of self-proclaimed king in a rolling, cushioned chair, gnawing on the end of his pen, was Caine Fisher. He looked bored. Much, much to bored, as if having a real alien sitting in front of him was just a small matter on his weekly agenda.

"Is she awake?"

"Awake and alert," Barricade responded, and that was when Mikaela saw a flash of his armor as he dug his talons into her shoulders, still making an effort to hold her down even though she was already bound to the steel chair.

"Awake and alert my ass," Mikaela twisted her neck, hearing the joints pop and creak. She had been hit hard, and she doubted that her neck would heal correctly withouth the proper medical attention. "Was that really necessary?"

"Oh, please," Fisher waved his hand and said, "We could have killed you. I'm sure Barricade would have been more than happy to execute that particular line of assault."

Mikaela glared daggers at the human, but to no avail. He did not flinch or curse or reel back, no, he just sat, stoical. It occurred to Mikaela that he was used to dealing with insane, hostile Cybertronians. He worked with…no, was an _accomplice_ to Barricade.

Accomplice. That was the only word Mikaela could use to describe the relationship between the dangerous duo of Caine Fisher and former Decepticon, Barricade. There seemed to be no spark between each of their sullen glances, no admiration, no hate or rage. Their deal had been based soley off of the interest of another, and Mikaela knew that if Barricade were to betray the Brotherhood - which was unlikely - then Fisher would have his hands full, despite the previous terms.

They fed off each other's resources. It was a mutual agreement, and it made Mikaela sick.

"What do you want with me?"

Fisher reclined back in his chair, biting savagely at the pen before tossing it down onto the desk. He said, "Answer this question, Miss Banes. Which would you rather prefer: Death, or madness?"

Mikaela blinked. Stared, and the craned her neck to look at Barricade. He seemed unfazed by the question, as if he had been asked the very same thing before.

"I….I guess….death. You're making things worse for everyone else by being mad."

Fisher's smile transformed into a broad, satisfied grin. He said, "Good. I feel so much better about myself," he waved a hand dismissively. "Do not fret. I'd rather you be put out of your misery once the operation is complete, anyway. And like you said, what's the point wandering the Earth full of false hopes and shattered dreams?"

Mikaela didn't dare say a word. She bit her lip plates, trying to come up with something tactical….this wasn't Megatron's boiling anger she was dealing with. This was a human who knew what to say and how to say it, knew how to strike a nerve that would ultimately set Mikaela off.

"You're going to kill me?"

"Not yet," Fisher waved the pen threateningly at Mikaela, before adding, "Although, I will inform you that the more you cooperate, the less you will see of Barricade, here. And the less you see of him, the more time you will have to reflect on your alien life and how to say goodbye."

A horrible, churning sickness welled up deep inside Mikaela tanks. She wanted to scream. To puke up everything, and then scream again.

But she had made a sacrifice. She was done. This was her moment, her glory, her chance to make everything better and leave in peace. The world no longer needed the Queen of Deception, who had always been in control of her own fate.

Mikaela steeled herself and said, "When I go down, I'm not going down without a fight."

"I expected as much," Fisher sighed and rolled his deep, brown eyes. He flicked a strand of honey blonde hair out of his eyes, shooting a quick glance at Barricade.

The mech dug his talons deep into Mikaela's shoulder, and she cried out in pain.

"_Oh_, Miss Banes," he said condescendingly, as if Mikaela were the madwoman in need of pity. "Your species never did learn. We humans, we are the masterminds behind history. You want to make the headlines? Fine. Go ahead. Pull some big, glorious scheme and see how that works out for you. You _are_ the Queen of Deception, aren't you?"

The horrible fact? He was right. Fisher's little nickname had blown up into her official title.

Queen of the Machines? More like Queen of Deception and all That is Subterfuge.

Fisher continued. "I know what you have in your head, Miss Banes. The cretin. The long dead lover of Optimus Prime," he snorted and met Mikaela's eye. "How is she doing, up in there? Watching all your mistakes, judging everything you've done? Huh?"

"Shut up."

"Big words, for someone chained to a chair," Fisher spat. "I've always hated your species. I go to bed at night loathing your existence."

"Some life you have," Mikaela murmured. "And what's with your hatred for us, anyway? What did we ever take away from you?"

He leaned forward, hands shaking, nails digging into the steel table so hard that Mikaela feared it might snap.

_"Everything."_

Mikaela had never thought about the fact that Fisher was an actual _person_. That he had feelings, no matter how little they may be in number. That he, once, could have had a family or parents or cousins or whatever to keep him company, to bind whatever hideous beast inhabited the place where his heart should have been.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he snapped. "It's your burden, not mine. Your race, I mean. Watching my parents and daughters and…." He stopped, but only for a moment. "Watching them get crushed under a two ton metal foot? That does something to a person."

Mikaela gulped. Barricade shifted uncomfortably behind him, as if he, too, were astounded by Fisher's sudden lack of reserve.

A vague part of Mikaela suspected that he was lying. Another part was trying to be sympathetic, but dwindling because it kept bringing up images of Graham and Lennox and all the others, as well as the monstrosity that contained Starscream's parts.

It was so, so hard for Mikaela to feel anything but hate for Fisher.

"You say that you want to change the world," Mikaela said through clenched teeth. "But _now_? You've entered a war that you cannot back out of. You have N.E.S.T, as well as whatever is left of the Decepticon faction hunting you down. It's only a matter of time before…." Mikaela glared down at the human. "You have no idea what sort of powers you're messing with."

"You think I don't know what you can do? If the powers mess with me, then by God, I'll mess with them back!" Fisher's laugh was mirthless, yet it got the point across. "You missed your last window, and here I am. Sitting before you. You want to kill me so badly? Do it! Lash out like the brave little alien you are!"

Mikaela jumped, but the bonds on her wrist forced her back down. She was had, and Fisher was sitting in his rolling chair, long, pale fingers rapping against the steel surface of the desk. He looked as if he were about to laugh. Or cry. Or bellow in rage. Or maybe a combination of all three.

"I don't care if we fucked up your life, alright?" Mikaela snarled. "I know what it's like to feel dead inside. I, actually, have died before, and all because you were a little pissed that a stupid human boy was attracting the world's attention."

Fisher paled miserably, and Barricade gave a wolf-whistle of appraisal.

"Yeah. Jealousy. I've been there. And you know what…." Mikaela paused, knowing that she was in deep, deep water. But the prospect was possible, and she wasn't going to overlook it, especially in an argument with Fisher. "You're upset that _they_ didn't get the same opportunity as I did to be reborn."

Now, Mikaela could tell that it was personal.

"Take her away," Fisher waved a hand, seemingly indifferent to the insult that would have shattered a normal person's soul into a million pieces. Mikaela didn't even think the human had a soul. Not anymore.

Insane. He was insane.

And Mikaela and her little band of Autobot buddies had made it that way.

Barricade kept her hands chained together, talons digging into her waist and shoulders as he guided her away. He was much too strong for Mikaela to get a good grip and twist, and she knew that under no circumstance would he allow her to_ ever_ graze a finger across Fisher's perfect face.

Which, in itself, sucked.

"You're crazy," Mikaela spat, shaking against the tight bonds as Barricade led her towards the door. "Trying to exterminate our species."

The human looked up.

"I'm not initiating a full-on genocide, Miss Banes," he picked up his pen and began to chew on the end, once again. "I'm just trying to get mankind to do something right."


	17. Nefarious

They stuck her in another room this time.

Another room. Almost the same as the one she'd been in the last time she'd been captured by the Brotherhood, and had been held for ransom in a perplexing demand that Optimus Prime himself be handed over.

Ah, good times.

The walls were white. The door was white, featureless against the cream backdrop. Mikaela could sense the camera's as they zoomed in and soaked up her frame, swiveling on their axels, just making sure that she didn't try and pull anything cute. Like going on a rampage. Or escaping.

She had thought about doing it. Had thought about running towards the white wall, heedless, not stopping until she was out. Who cared about the humans she crushed beneath her pedes? They would just be replaced with more mindless buffoons, like always. More people to shoot those infuriating weapons and more people to die doing so.

And then there was Fisher himself. The man was a nightmare. Fearless, smart, and intimidating, Mikaela knew that he was capable of wielding a weapon, that he would be able to hold his own in a fight.

That prospect was terrifying.

Since when had her race become the underlings? Since when were humans able to capture, and successfully kill a Cybertronian? Megatron, he had been found, not captured. Bumblebee, he had been an Autobot and thus unable to act due to the coda. Mikaela had known, watching him struggle under the binds, that he could get out if he wanted to. The thing was, he _hadn't_ wanted to.

Now, she was a trapped bird.

So, she sat.

Sat down on her haunches and tried not to cry, because that was the only thing she could do now. Mourn over the awfulness of her own life, and the lives of so many others. The fact that Starscream was gone hit her like nails every time she thought about it, and because of all that had gone on, she'd barely had time to...to properly grieve...

She barely heard him come in. The Cybertronian sized door opened, and Mikaela saw the shadow as it fell over her form.

She did not look up.

"Crying?" Barricade sneered. "What for?"

"You know why."

He knelt down. Shoved his face close, and Mikaela could feel his intakes as they inhaled, and exhaled air, almost as if he were breathing.

"Fisher's been watching your display of….courage," Barricade rolled his red optics. "He wanted me to come in and keep you company."

"Aren't he the sweet one. He could have done it himself," Mikaela grumbled. "Go away."

Barricade sat down on his rear and did not budge.

"Asshole," Mikaela said, her optics narrowing. "You know, this is probably the largest and most in depth conversation I've had with you. Ever. I mean, last time it was shoot first, chat later."

"That was when the ties were even," Barricade gestured around to the white walls, the cameras, the fact that Mikaela was imprisoned and utterly at his mercy. "Now? Not so much."

"You're a real prick, you know that?"

"So I've been told. Tell me, how's it going back in the faction?" Barricade leaned forward. "How is dear old Megatron? Is he even still alive?"

Barricade had seen Megatron get taken down by the shock-stick, Mikaela remembered. They hadn't encountered each other since, and she wondered if Barricade even knew that the two factions, Autobot and Decepticon, were collaborating and plotting him and Fisher's demise.

It almost made Mikaela laugh. He was ignorant, uninformed. And that mistake was crucial.

"He was hit pretty hard…." Mikaela said. "Right near the spark. Ouchie."

Barricade growled, a low sound that reverberated through his chest.

"Don't play games with me."

"I'm not playing games," she said. "I'm just stating the facts. I mean, I saved him, I dragged him out of there. I know. So it's _my _choice whether or not I tell you."

She grinned toothily, and then shifted to look up at the camera's. They swiveled in on her frame, and Mikaela gave them the middle finger salute before shouting, "You hear that, Fisher? Ole' Megsy _could _be out looking for me. Or, more specifically, _you_."

Barricade laughed, a low, dangerous chuckle that informed Mikaela that he knew more than he was letting on. He sat, legs crossed, head propped up on his hands, thoroughly amused. His red optics twinkled and for a moment Mikaela thought that he was studying her, like a mad scientist might study their victims, or a lion might study its prey. Curious, but wary.

"You saw what we did to Starscream."

"'_We_'?" Mikaela scoffed, almost offended. "Oh, so you've joined the Brotherhood family unit. Are you feeling it, Barricade? Are you feeling the brotherly love that comes with killing, kidnapping, and blackmailing?"

"More so that you would think," the mech leaned forward. "Fisher and I certainly do have our differences, but we _are _close. He sheltered me when I needed it, and I in turn provide them with the proper procedure to create….." he trailed off. "I don't know what it is, but you saw it yourself. The creature."

"The _abomination_," Mikaela spat. "How can you live with it, Barricade? Knowing that you've _killed_ a brother in arms out of cold blood? Huh? Just to satisfy a bunch of fucking humans?"

Barricade's optics became serious. Deadly serious and Mikaela had to lean back because she knew that in a matter of seconds, things could get violent. Barricade was almost as unstable as his human counterpart, and Mikaela didn't want to see _that_ side of him come out, like it did during a fight. She _wanted_ desperately to survive, and to do that, she needed to be intact.

"Listen, you little rat. You have no idea what our creation...," Barricade seemed to pause, steel himself, and say as if it hurt, "You don't know how important it is. How it will change _everything_."

"Oh, I damn well know how it will change everything! How do you expect to win this war -"

"It isn't about winning," Barricade interrupted. "It's about sending a message. The humans want to be in charge, and by Primus, I'm letting them be in charge. It isn't like I have anywhere to go."

"Fisher said that he didn't want genocide."

"But he wants the closest thing to it," he replied bitterly. "Expatriation. He's bribing Congress? Well, I'm sure that their little fleshy brains will practically _melt_ when we see what we've whipped together for them. An early Christmas present, as Fisher put it."

Diabolical. But Mikaela had seen it coming. Megatron, as well as N.E.S.T, had really, really, underestimated the Brotherhood.

And that was a monumental mistake in a world full of lies.

She went silent, her back against the wall, her legs curled up against her. She didn't dare speak of Ratchet or Optimus or anyone on the Autobot side, for it was too risky. They had Garrison back. Megatron had probably already gotten the news and Trina was back safe with him. Worried, but safe.

And that was all that mattered.

"Your father," Barricade said sneered. "How is he?"

"Fine."

She didn't count her father as part of the Autobot faction. She didn't count him as anything. Factionless.

"Quite a scare it gave us," he continued, "A couple of mechs busting in and rescuing him, all clad in dark armor and the Decepticon insignia. I wonder how that arrangement was made, hm? Did you sell your body in exchange for his liberation?"

"No. Never."

"I'm not convinced."

"How can I convince you?" Mikaela murmured. "I'm not in the mood for this game, Barricade. Take what you want and go away."

Joints creaked as the mech slid over beside Mikaela, the white armor adorning his shoulder brushing against Mikaela. Her optics were trained on the floor, on his misshapen shadow as he shifted and stretched his limbs.

"You don't strike me as the silent type," he said. "Come now, I don't bite. Talk to me."

Mikaela slapped her palms onto the ground, got up, and went to the opposite side of the room.

Shit. He was still watching her and she could still see his dark shadow, though farther away that before.

"He's watching you now," Barricade tilted his head towards the security cameras. "You were smart with your words. You didn't give anything away."

Mikaela looked up. His jagged mouth was pulled into a smile, the tiny lenses in his optics zooming in and out, running over her face.

"I can see why Megatron picked you."

"It wasn't for my looks, if that's what you're implying."

Barricade mimicked Mikaela's position, pulling his long legs up against him, wrapping thick, corded arms around them and staring at Mikaela with utter contempt.

"Then why does he keep you around?"

"Because of my resources," Mikaela pretended to inspect each of her talons, turning them left and right, optic ridges raised with faint enjoyment. Though Barricade was trying her patience, it left her someone other than an angst-ridden Fisher to talk to.

"Resources? He has the sardonic Soundwave for that," Barricade rolled his optics. "Although he's never been one for subterfuge."

He was right, and as Mikaela rested her head against the wall, she felt the security cameras zoom in on her. She considered shooting them, but she knew that as soon as the drew her weapon Barricade – plus a horde of heavily armed humans – would be on her.

It sucked. Bad. Being stuck in this room, left to her own thoughts.

That was the thing. The room. The walls. Barricade. The fact that past all of those, the humans were waiting, experimenting on the remains of a Seeker she had the nerve to call a friend, as well as searching for whatever was left of the once famed Decepticon faction. Like wolves, following the scent of prey.

The hunters had now become the hunted, and it was only a matter of time before both factions wouldn't be able to raise a finger to stop it.


	18. Asylum

**I sincerely apologize for the shortness of this chapter. Due to...complications, I've been slacking off lately. Oops. But rest assured, this chapter is mostly a filler for what comes next. And by what comes next, I will say, you will get your action. **

* * *

><p>Hours turned to days. Days turned to weeks.<p>

Weeks all spent stuck in her shitty little room with those shitty little cameras and no matter how much she didn't want to admit it, she knew that part of her longed for human contact. Not Barricade.

Fisher. Anyone to talk to. The cameras just made her paranoid and anxious, and most of the time she just paced around her room, trying to activate her comm and finding that the signal was jammed. Trying to search the internet but finding that it, too, was down. She was isolated from the outside world and just left to herself in this tiny, shitty room that made her feel as if she were surrounded by cream.

Since when had this become real? She missed Trina desperately, and she even yearned for her father, despite the fact that he had been sent home months ago. But no matter what, she knew that the odds were not in her favor.

So that was why she was so surprised when Fisher, flanked by two others – not even guards – strolled in on what Mikaela presumed to the end of her first week in captivity.

Two scientist, it seemed. Lab coats and everything. The male tall and lanky, overshadowing Fisher by at least a few inches. The girl looked more petite, red hair pulled back and free of any curls, glasses resting against the curve of her nose.

They flashed as she looked up at Mikaela, mouth pulled into a thin line.

"What?" Mikaela snapped.

The girl looked taken aback. The male, as well as Fisher, just smirked.

"I'm not getting any younger here," Mikaela said. "What do you want?"

"We want you to come with us," Fisher said. "Now."

* * *

><p>She found herself walking down a hallway with a familiar structure. White walls. Doors. Biohazard signs all over the place as if there was something to be afraid of, and then Mikaela remembered. Oh, right, the creature was in here somewhere.<p>

"You feel content with building a monster?" Mikaela asked, staring at the back of Fisher's head. Barricade thundered behind her, acting as a guard. Just him, Fisher, and the two humans who Mikaela had yet to be introduced to.

"Not a monster, a miracle," the male said, turning. "The first in a line of artificial intelligence controlled by humans, and humans only."

"Out with the factual, in with the daydreams, huh?" Mikaela said sourly. "How long did it take you to come up with this? Did Wonder Cop behind me help or was it all you?"

The male shook his head, but still, he couldn't keep his eyes off Mikaela.

"Caine here is a good friend of mine," he continued, slapping the other man on the back. Fisher stiffened, as if he weren't used to such contact. "As is Dr. Alister over there."

The girl – Alister – just turned her head and nodded. She had yet to speak, and Mikaela wondered if it had anything to do with the lack courage it took to overcome standing near such powerful aliens. She walked slowly, hands laced together behind her back, eyes directed at the ground.

Hm. Mikaela could have a little fun with her.

"Hey," she spoke up, voice raised. "Redhead. What encouraged you to work with these assholes?"

"Money."

Ah. Of course.

"You pay minimum wage or what?" She said to Fisher, and Barricade shoved her forward. "You're a rich man, so I guess….."

"I pay them as much as I see fit," Fisher snapped, and then shoved his hands into his coat pocket and strode forward, leaving the group gaping behind.

"Someone took his bitchy pills this morning," Mikaela muttered, and then yelped when Barricade bashed the back of her helm with his knuckles. She continued forward, stepping over the two oblivious scientist and briskly following Fisher towards the observation room.

It struck her, how little she knew about the place. How large it was. If she could just tap into the mainframe, she'd be able to download a map and direct her way out.

She assumed that she was still at the industrial unit of Synapsis. Unless they'd had the audacity to move her while she was unconscious, she seriously doubted that Fisher would risk losing her for one second. She was his prize.

None of them seemed to be sharing in the joy, though. Barricade was still an ass. The two scientist behind her were just as stoical as Soundwave. Fisher himself, ever since his confession last week, he'd done his best to rebuild that unyielding, unflappable personality he'd managed to acquire.

And he was doing a great job of it, not flinching when Mikaela fell beside him, looking through the glass and into the room below them.

The creature lay, stretched out, tail curled around its body like a blanket. Smoke curled from its nostrils, its optics dulled and unmoving. From this angle, and in this light, Mikaela could see it better than last time. She could see the Cybertronian symbols etched onto its brown armor, Starscream's armor that, against his will, had been ripped from his frame and molded to fit a particular shape.

The monster was a dragon, but Mikaela couldn't refer to it as anything but a disgrace. A monstrosity controlled by humans who intended to hand it over to other humans, who, in turn, would use it for their own nefarious reasons.

Like wiping out any military opposition. And who was to say that the Brotherhood would stop? With Barricade's ingenuity on their side, the would be able to build anything they set their minds to….

"Holy shit," Mikaela hissed, shaking her helm. Her face was inches away from Fisher's frame, her labored breaths ruffling his golden hair. He didn't seem the least bit fazed; in fact, he seemed intrigued.

"We've accomplished this thanks to people like them," he pointed back at Dr. Alister and the male. "Dr. Koenig was the one who initiated the process, flanked by Barricade. Dr. Alister acted as his assistant, those her contributions are duly noted."

"You got a bunch of crazies to make this?" Mikaela said, angered and a bit offended. "Dear Lord, Fisher, what game are you trying to play, huh? You do know you're probably not going to be able to leave this complex without getting killed, right?"

"I am aware of the dangers."

"Then do something about them. Or I will."

Mikaela eased back as Fisher turned, gesturing for Barricade to secure her. Strong arms clamped over her and slammed her face down into the ground, causing the floor to tremble and sending Koenig to his knees. She thrashed around, screamed, even, but Barricade's grip was too strong and Mikaela weakened.

One optic was obscured. But she saw Fisher as he knelt down, taping his chin thoughtfully and smiling – a smile that would send any human woman kneeling, but ultimately filled Mikaela with hatred – and tapped her helm.

"I intend to do something about it," he said softly. "But we're out of supplies. The big mech – Starscream, you called him? – yes, well, Starscream's parts proved beneficial."

Mikaela gulped, Barricade twisting her neck so she gave a cry of agony.

"But you? You're the missing link, Banes. And I intend to use every part of you."

He stood. Snapped a command at Barricade and she found herself lifted into the air, thrown over his shoulder. She screamed. Beat at his back and tried to scramble away even though the ceiling was flipped and the humans were watching her, Fisher doing a terrible job of stifling his grin, Koenig abandoning the prospect and downright congratulating his friend with a grin and a slap to the back.

Dr. Alister was the only one not beaming with triumph.


	19. Smackdown

"Secure her bonds!"

"Quickly! Before she hurts someone!"

Two separate voices barking orders. Fisher and Koenig, Dr. Alister staying in the shadows.

She was strapped down to a table that vaguely resembled a medical berth, though certainly not as comfortable. Her legs hung off the end and the platform was way too close to her face, allowing Fisher and Koenig and all the others crazies to view her without fault.

Koenig would oversee the operation, she was sure. Fisher would be watching from the observation room, just because his ego demanded that he witness the demolition of his most hated enemy. Barricade would be doing the tearing, the cutting, the _dissembling._

_You have it all figured out, don't you?_

Roadrunner took that moment to make her grand appearance.

_I'm about to die, alright? _Mikaela replied shakily. _At least get rid of your bitchy attitude._

_We're both about to die, dumbaft. If you die, I die. It's a two way street._

_Shit._

_Yeah. Didn't think about that before, did you?_

Mikaela thrashed against her bonds, but they were too strong. Metal. Controlled by a computer in the corner that was manned by a few humans, as well as a guard.

Mikaela looked around at the bright lights, the bustling people. The dingy smell of energon hung in the air, energon that would ultimately override her systems and loll her into a deep sleep.

_If you're going to pull something, pull it fast._

Mikaela didn't reply because she had nothing to pull.

This was it.

This was her doom. This was how it was all going to go down, Mikaela Banes, Queen of Deception and that is Subterfuge, was going to go down under a pile of twirling machinery and ripping scalpels.

Bullshit. She had to at least try and pull something….

"Fisher!" She shouted, her voice echoing through the chamber. Humans stopped in their tracks. Koenig, who was sharpening a long knife that looked more like a machete than something used for an operation, stared down at her in shock as if he were surprised that she had the ability to speak at all.

"Listen to me," she continued. "This is digging a deeper hole for yourself! This is dooming your entire organization! N.E.S.T and the Decepticon's are collaborating and they. Will. Kill. You. You hear? You so much as cut me, Optimus will come after you himself and turn you into mush."

"You think that I'm afraid of Optimus Prime?" Fisher replied, raising his voice to a shout so all his followers could hear him. He stood on a higher platform, making his way up towards the observation deck.

"You're afraid of something. And they'll figure out what it is."

Fisher's lips curved upward into a devilish smile and he lacked, going out of his way to flip Mikaela off before walking down the stairs, adjusting his suit and tie.

"Tear her open," he told Barricade, and then left the room.

"My pleasure."

Mikaela knew that death was inevitable. The binds were to strong and Barricade would be able to stop her if she escaped. Koenig stood over her, clipboard in hand, handing the massive scalped to Dr. Alister.

"Koenig," Mikaela pleaded. "Don't do this. You know that this is wrong. You both do."

"Down to begging?" Koenig gave a mirthless laugh. "Do you think I care what happened to a sick alien like you? Huh? I have beef with whoever Fisher has beef with, and unfortunately, sweetheart, you're on the list. Plus, the money…."

"Fuck money. Money doesn't buy you happiness, alright? Feeling content that you did the right thing does."

"Coming from you?" Koenig replied, incredulous. "The Queen of Deception is lecturing me about doing the right thing! Oh, God, this is too good!"

Barricade jointed in on the laughing, Dr. Alister gave a small smile.

"What about you, Alister?" Mikaela said. "Are you going to follow this guy?"

"She's getting paid double as well," Koenig snapped. "Leave her be."

"I'll leave her be when you put that scalpel down," Mikaela said, and then gave a groan as she strained her cuffs. "And step away slowly. I'm getting pissed here, and you do not want to see or hear me when I'm pissed."

"Certainly not," Koenig said. "That's why we're sedating you."

"So you won't hear my screaming?"

"So we won't hear anything at all," Koenig gestured with his finger, and Barricade tromped forward, standing at Mikaela's side.

"Don't think about trying to fight it," Koenig hissed, and Mikaela heard a subtle flip of a switch and the whirr or mechanics, and she tried to turn her head to see where it was coming from but was greeted with a view of white and black armor.

Barricade knelt down, his face hovering inches over Mikaela's. She could feel his intakes hitch as he observed her helpless form, and a smirk graced his lips plates.

"Enjoy it while it last," he hissed. "You won't have anything left after this."

Mikaela looked him dead in the optics.

"And neither will you."

Mikaela could feel her optics start to blur over, her limbs becoming as floppy as rubber. She couldn't feel anything – not the doctors as they came in with their knives and saws, not Barricade as he stood back and barked orders.

She couldn't hear, and a moment later, she couldn't see.

But she could still dream.

* * *

><p>Sleep felt nice. She'd been unconscious like this before, laying on her deathbed and listening to the sounds above her. The doctors idle chatting seemed like nothing compared to the feel of drifting off, her optics blank, her audio receptors muffled.<p>

It wasn't like last time, pumped full of dreamers so she lost whatever grasp she had on the physical world.

It was different. Brighter. Roadrunner was still there, in her head, her consciousness dulled due to the sedatives. Her soft voice was slurred like that of a drunk, and Mikaela felt her seemingly shift away into the back of Mikaela head, refusing to reemerge. She didn't blame her.

Red spots danced across her vision and Mikaela smiled. Like polka dots. Or big, bright cherries.

Cherries….yum.

She missed cherries.

"I miss cherries."

Was that her voice? It felt like someone else's, murmured, barely audible. Koenig. And someone else, another male. Like it mattered.

"Oh, my God. Is she still awake?"

"Hit her again!"

"No! Too much could cause for her to shut down completely and you _know_ what Fisher said about that."

The voices stopped. Mikaela heard scuffling feet and the whirr of a blade.

"Dr. Alister, get on her right side."

More shuffling, shoes squeaking against grated metal. Mikaela felt a tug on her side and instinctively turned her massive head. What she saw frightened her.

Koenig, with a scalpel scraping across her armor. His brows were furrowed in concentration and he was barely paying attention as Mikaela feebly tugged at her bonds, and then gave up. Koenig had one. He was slipping past her defenses, up her armor, past the crisscrossed tubes and wires and prodding at the gears beneath.

"Remarkable," he breathed, kneeling to get a better angle.

Mikaela hissed, but Koenig either ignored her or pretended not to notice.

It wasn't like she had anything left. She'd made a promise and done everything in her power to keep that promise. Optimus and Megatron may be heartbroken, but they were still alive. As would Fisher.

They needed something to fight for, she realized with a content sigh. If her offlining ensured Fisher's demise, then so be it.

Death would come soon.

She knew it.

* * *

><p>She awoke some time later. Not fully, but enough to hear the piercing ring of a siren. The cherries from before, the red spots dancing across her vision, they were real now, cast down from the harsh glow of the flashing alarm.<p>

Hurried footsteps from above and Mikaela could make out the commotion on the platform overhead. Koenig stood, his dark hair astray, shouting through the noise and barking commands.

Where was Barricade?

Where was Fisher?

What was going on?

Koenig's knuckles gripped the railing as he stared down at Mikaela, his beady eyes narrowing. Mikaela's optics were barely hanging open, sleep beginning to overcome her once more. It was like some horrific, never ending dream and Mikaela desperately wanted to wake up, to wake up somewhere other than here. In Optimus' arms. Hell, in Megatron's arms, if she didn't have a choice.

The doctors were clearing the overhanging platform, sliding down railing and manning their own stations. Some shot Mikaela glances as they shuffled out of the hall, as if afraid to leave her alone without Cybertronian supervision. She heard, vaguely, one of them shout for Barricade.

But Barricade was out defending the fort. He was the key, she realized. Draw him away and the humans were a scattered mess.

A boom. The walls shook.

What was happening?

A part of Mikaela's disoriented mind saw this as a rescue attempt from either Optimus, or Megatron, or both. She cursed each one for trying, for putting their own troops in danger. Especially Megatron. If he was acting alone, then he was as good as dead. Even if he had Soundwave with him, two angry mechs weren't enough to take the Brotherhood down.

Plaster rained from the ceiling. Koenig covered his head, and then shouted through all the noise.

"Alister! Get up here!"

The woman hobbled up the steps, clutching the railing, her red hair hanging from her face in waves.

Something was wrong.

Mikaela blinked, double checked, and then blinked again.

Alister slowed to a stop beside Koenig, panting, glancing down at Mikaela before saying, "Yes, sir?"

"Sedate her. Fully."

"But that will ensure her de–"

"Just do it!" He thrust a crooked finger towards the valve at the end of the platform.

Alister stared.

The sirens continued to ring, the flashes of red masking Alister's face for just one moment.

And then, Mikaela swore she lost her mind.

Dr. Alister yanked open her lab coat and Mikaela saw – out of the corner of her eye – Koenig begin to react. Jumping away, hands on the railing. But Alister was too fast and she swept the massive machete scalpel in an arc.

Dr. Koenig's head fell, bounced, and then rolled.

His corpse dropped to the ground.

Alister threw open her coat and let it fall, revealing the pistol and knife hidden underneath. She swung the blood flecked weapon once, twice, shaking her head so her red wig fell. Black hair streaked with red, blue, and green, eyes alit like dancing flames.

"We're out of here!" Trina yelled, holding the machete up over her head in a challenge to everything around her.


	20. Absconder

A part of Mikaela's mind was confused: that part belonged to Roadrunner.

Another part was relieved.

Another, skeptical.

Another part was starting at Trina and wondering how the hell she'd managed to pull it all off.

Trina unsheathed her pistol, raised it into the air, and fired a shot. The doctors reacted in a mass, some screaming and fleeing, others acquiring a sudden burst of courage and rushing onto the platform.

"Trina!"

"Hush, hush! I got it!"

She spun, cocked the pistol, and aimed.

The flash, the explosion, blasted the first doctor off his feet and sent him bouncing down the stairs, part of his face splattered across the metal.

Trina swung the machete and moved. She was faster than Mikaela had thought capable and in less than a second, she'd leaped over the body of Koenig and beheaded another. Then she pivoted and fired at point blank and blood exploded across the platform.

There were three guards rushing in. A beat later, one was sent sprawling on his back with a massive hole in his chest. Another tripped and fell over his own head. The remaining doctor tried to run but Trina was faster, wound up her arm, and flung her machete.

It buried itself in his back. He fell, gurgled, and then went still.

Trina was covered in gore but she didn't seem to care, her blood flecked fingers gripping the railing and staring down at Mikaela. She was winded, but still able to maneuver herself off the platform so she fell onto Mikaela's chassis.

"Scared shitless, they are," she huffed, wiping off her blade on her white lab coat, ridding it of the blood and bits of flesh. "Took em' by surprise. You alright?"

Mikaela's mouth could barely operate, but she was able to emit a dull, "Bonds."

"How do I get them off?" Trina asked.

Mikaela gestured with a heavy helm towards the control pad pressed into the corner. The guard that had once been parked next to the console was gone, and the doctor manning it had crawled up under his desk with his hands over his head.

Trina cocked the pistol, and then swung herself down Mikaela's arm, dropping onto the floor. She left bloody footprints in her wake as she strode over to the computer, staring at the screen with narrowed eyes before ducking to look at the doctor hiding below.

"This is just a bunch of fucking mumbo-jumbo computer shit," she barked. "You know how to man this thing. You get on the controls and let her go unless you want a bullet through your head. You feel me?"

The doctor nodded in apprehension. He crawled on shaky legs out from under the table and manned the device, flicking through levels and gears, his round, frameless spectacles flashing as he did so. Trina stood over him, her gun trained on the back of his head.

He pressed a button, and immediately, Mikaela felt the pressure around her wrist and ankles loosen. She shook her leg and found herself able to wriggle out of the restraints.

She began to rip at the various tubes and wires attached to her frame, taking special care with the one that had kept her sedated, pulling the needle slowly from her arm. Almost like human medicine, she realized with a grimace. It would have been better to just tap her optics or put her in stasis.

She swung her legs over the side of the berth, steadied herself, the nausea disappearing. She sensed Roadrunner, emerging from her hole, her conscience beginning to flourish once again.

_My, oh my, all the blood. Did we do this?_

_No. It was Trina._

_The little fleshy certainly doesn't lack ruthlessness._

Mikaela nodded in understanding and watched as Trina slammed the end of her machete against the doctors head. He slumped from his seat, unconscious, and she turned to Mikaela, hands on her hips.

"The exit is that way. Masquerading as Alister, I had plenty of time to memorize the routes," she slipped her machete up into her jacket. "Can you transform?"

Mikaela squeezed shut her optics, trying to black out that sense of nausea. Then, she felt her gears grinding and her joints shifting, her helm swiveling back and her optics coming online. Trina was in the car before the hood even popped into place, and Mikaela was driving towards the massive door.

She skidded into the hallway and was greeted with chaos. Guards, scientist, they were all running away from the front entrance.

"There she is!"

"Stop her!"

Bullets peppered Mikaela, but they weren't the kind that could harm her. Just the kind that would leave nasty scratches on her finish.

"The window!" Trina shouted. "Roll it down!"

Mikaela obliged and Trina stuck the muzzle of her gun out the small crack, rapid fire, bang, bang, bang from her gun.

Blood splattered against Mikaela's doors but she didn't care. As long as they got out of here alive.

"Left!" Trina cried, gesturing with her left hand while holding the gun with her right. "Left!"

The sudden slam and then the skid send Trina tumbling from the window and out of her seat. She cursed, and then shoved a lock of red tinged hair out of her eyes.

Mikaela saw, out of the corner of her optics, a figure with honey colored hair, clad in a suit and tie.

"Shit!"

"What? Why the 'shit'?"

"Look who decided to come and play."

Fisher was flanked by at least half a dozen guards, all ready with those horrendous shock-sticks. Mikaela was plowing down the hallway left and right, fishtailing wildly and knocking people out of her path.

"Leave him!" Trina shouted gruffly. "We'll get the bastard another day!"

Fisher threw himself into the nearest room, clearing identifying the oncoming danger as something that would not slow down, no matter the circumstances. Several of his guards followed, but others weren't so lucky. They were either rammed into a wall by Mikaela's bumper of shot down by Trina's furious barrage of bullets.

Mikaela slid once more, leaving a trail of smoke in her wake.

"Are we almost out?"

"There!" Trina pointed.

It was a separate entrance, clearly in the back of the complex. The massive doors didn't do it justice, the helicopters and planes providing Mikaela with something of an obstacle. It reminded her of a military hangar.

Considering the Brotherhoods advancement and amount of guard force, it was hard not to believe that they weren't some type of superstitious militia.

Mikaela swerved to avoid a helicopter.

"Hold onto something, Trina," she said as she approached a group of guards, all lined up in a neat little row like a bunch of smug bastards. All equipped with wretched shock-sticks.

Mikaela popped open her left door and caught the first guards in the side, sending his sprawling into the next one.

She just let the domino effect take its course.

She felt a sizzle, and then a crackle of electricity as the shock-stick glanced off her roof. And then another, narrowly missing her trunk.

"This is like some insane, yet shitty roller coaster ride!" Trina howled with glee and beat her fist against the dashboard. It was a mirthless statement, but certainly not anywhere far from the truth.

"Imagine how the driver is feeling!" Mikaela grunted, avoiding a group of huddled doctors. On any other day, she would have run them down. But they were hard pressed for time and she didn't want to be picking guts or whatever out from under her tires and engine.

Trina eased herself up, tightly clutching her gun. Her lab coat was covered in blood, as was her face, a long streak of it running down her neck. Her black, blue, green, and red hair, though short, was a tussled mess on her head. Her eyes were alit as she reached under her coat to touch her machete.

"I think that I'm keeping this thing," she said.

"No, you aren't," Mikaela said. "We've spilled enough blood for one day, _Dr. Alister_."

"The title was complementary. I've always wanted to be called 'Dr.'," Trina replied dismissively. "It took, like, twelve hours to actually capture the real Dr. Alister."

"Where is she now?"

"Handed her over to the Autobot," Trina shrugged. "For interrogation. A select percent suggested that we kill her. I merrily declined."

"Yet you had Marti Gras with those guys back there," Mikaela said dryly.

"Hey, they threatened my girl. It was the least I could have done."

Mikaela chuckled.

They burst from the complex, sliding out onto the smooth road, Mikaela's tires beginning to wind down. Fatigue was overcoming her senses, the sedatives heavy in her tanks.

"Thank you, Trina," she whispered.

"We aren't out of the woods yet," she said, twisting to look out the back window. Fear laced her voice and Mikaela swiveled her rearview mirror to get a closer look.

Streaking across the asphalt, three Suburban's followed in hot pursuit. Lights on their hoods flashed, but they were too far away for Trina to put a bullet in them.

"Shit," Mikaela hissed. "Not good, not good. This is open road we're on."

The vast expanse of black asphalt before them was nothing compared to the rage fueled inside her. Fisher had the audacity to send someone after her this time? Before, he had given them a clean slate and let them go.

Now, he was being serious. He really, really wanted her.

"I can beat them in a race," Mikaela said. "But they'll keep following, and I'm getting tired."

Mikaela bumped over a rock and hissed. Trina flew from her seat, hands pressed against her window, palms splayed. She was breathing deeply, observing the cavalry behind them.

She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a walkie-talkie.

"Hit em'."

Mikaela tilted her mirrors once more and saw something streak overhead, like a jet, its engine roaring . And then, a hiss, like a frightened snake.

Mikaela knew better.

The three missiles dove from above, curving upward so that they brushed Mikaela's roof. The car's behind didn't have the time, the speed, or the sheer will to actually try and dodge.

The explosion was quick, yet it lit up the night sky and caused metal to fall like rain.

Mikaela slammed on her brakes, skidded, ignoring Trina's whoops and shouts of victory.

_Holy. Primus. _Roadrunner hissed.

She stared at the wreckage, the piled, twisted, burning metal. No one crawled out of the debris. If so, then Mikaela did not see them.

A shadow passed overhead, and then Megatron dropped from the sky like an avenging bird of prey. Trina braced her arms on the dashboard, leaning forward.

His moves were jerky, shaky, due to the healing wound in his chest. But he was still able to stumble towards Mikaela as she transformed, letting Trina out.

"You owe me an explanation," he hissed.

"That will have to wait," Mikaela said, glancing back at the orange glow of the fire. There was a pop, and then part of a car exploded outward, showering everything in dust and ash.

"You have a lot to tell me, I presume?"

Mikaela smiled.

"Yes," she said. "But we need _everyone _around to hear it. Optimus thinks that I'm still imprisoned. Lennox and Epps and….." She choked back a sudden cry of despair. "Shit hit the fan when you were gone, alright?"

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

Mikaela, bleary eyed, looked up at him.

"Answer this, Megatron. Are you willing to form an alliance with your most hated enemy to ensure that both factions survive this war?"

Megatron hesitated.

Trina stared.

Then, a nod.

Mikaela said, "Good. Then let's roll."


	21. Extraterrestrial Intimacy

"And how exactly did you manage to show up on N.E.S.T doorstep, seemingly unharmed?"

Hostility was like a virus, it seemed. It spread. Fast. An epidemic unable to be purged unless someone – say, Mikaela – did something that would ultimately restore whatever faith the humans and Autobots had in her.

So far, she wasn't doing a great job.

Charlotte Mearing was glaring daggers at _everyone_, which made Mikaela feel a tab bit better about the current situation. Megatron was glaring right back, as was Trina, the only other human in the room. They had returned upon such short notice that Trina was still clutching her blood-speckled machete, her empty pistol holstered at her side.

Lucky for Mearing, Optimus was standing behind her and if by some bizarre circumstance Trina was to lash out, he would be there to stop it.

Mikaela doubted that. Despite Trina's ruthlessness earlier on, she'd managed to cool down and sit in the metal chair with a seemingly stoical expression, despite the glares.

"Megatron and Trina," Mikaela gulped and jerked her chin towards said two people, "They worked together."

Mearing stared at Trina with disgust. Then, looked up at Megatron with the same expression everyone had carried as they'd entered the base, walking down the hallway. Hostility. Mikaela had been surprised that Prime had allowed the Decepticon to even enter this base, even with all the chaos raging around them. The news that Lennox and his team were dead had spread like a wildfire through the human ranks, and now they, as well as the Autobots, were practically screaming for Caine Fisher to be hunted down and killed.

Mikaela steeled herself for Mearing's response, but none came. Instead, Optimus cut in and said, "With all due respect, Director, the intentions were far from inimical. Megatron has offered us an alliance and I see no reason why we sh–"

"With all due respect, _Prime_," Mearing began, rounding on him, her framed spectacles flashing, "This creature…..no, this_ felon_, has proved time and time again that he is not to be trusted."

"_How_?" Trina snapped.

Megatron's head swiveled down to look at her. She was defending him, and better change from when she'd suggested to leave him in the desert to die. Mikaela wondered what exactly had gone on during her capture, when Trina had been left alone with Soundwave and Megatron all that time.

"The Sun Harvester. Mission City. _Everything_," Mearing replied coolly, glancing briefly at Optimus, opening her mouth as if to bring up another point, and then closing it. "We are perfectly capable of handling the Brotherhood situation without his help."

"I am right here, you know," Megatron replied. "And while your human organization has proven quite…._prosperous _when it comes to dealing unknown threats – Cybertronians, in particular – I don't have the _slightest _belief that you know who, or _what_ you are dealing with. _Director_," his lips curled back in a nasty sneer, "Have you been on the fronts lines yourself? All you have is a pile of tedious paperwork that describes who Caine Fisher is, but not what he can do. He successfully managed to capture and kill one of my top commanders. A_ Decepticon_, mind you. Not one of your petite little Autobot pets that would have qualms about killing a human."

"And that's not all," Trina added. "No offense, Prime, but you have too many limitations. Megatron, believe it or not, is like a vicious animal. And when it comes to a situation like this, we need someone who won't show any mercy or hesitation."

Like you, Mikaela wanted to say. She still had the images of Trina, running, screaming, swinging that massive scalpel around and beheading people left and right in her mind. Megatron must have taught her a lot in a scale of a few weeks.

"Yeah," Mikaela said. "I mean, I'm not trying to pledge my loyalty to the Decepticon's or anything, but Megatron has helped with the whole Brotherhood thing, more than once."

"Oh, and now you're talking about moral standards?" Mearing snorted. "Says the girl who willingly switched factions. How has that been holding up for you, Banes?"

"Hey," Trina growled. "She saved my dad. Lay off."

Mearing's look was far from pleasant, but she was able to shrug Trina's comment off with a sigh. She shuffled her papers, bit her lip, and then said, "I see where you come from."

Mikaela looked around, and then tried to put herself in Mearing's place. The woman was sitting in front of a rogue Autobot, the Autobot commander, a human with an untainted streak of violence, and the Decepticon overlord.

And she was doing a hell of a good job concealing the fact that she was scared out of her wits.

You couldn't get any more dangerous than this, Mikaela thought with a shake of the head.

"Megatron," Optimus said, the words heavy on his lips. "You have offered a temporary alliance between our two factions, and for the sake of the femme we _both_ love, I will honor it. But only if you do the same."

Megatron's red optics flickered over Optimus' frame, his shoulders stiff. His silver armor wasn't as shiny or flashy as it was before, the stress of his previous injury having caused some of it to pale and then flake away. He looked like a sunken scarecrow, Mikaela realized. Half of his troops were either dead or rogue. His air commander was offline. All he'd had for company the past few weeks had been a human female and Soundwave.

A part of Mikaela knew that he was desperate. On any other day, he'd have said no and then stabbed Prime in the back.

Open mouthed, Mikaela watched as Megatron extended a long, talon clad hand.

Optimus took it in his, and shook gingerly.

Trina gave a whistle of appraisal and began to swing her machete, much to Mearing's distaste. She said, "Fantastic, boys. That's a wrap."

* * *

><p>"Let me look at yo –"<p>

"No, Ratchet," Mikaela said wearily, brushing away his hand. "I don't need an exam. Certainly not now."

"But you were deprived of energon for far too long," he said quickly. It was almost funny, watching him fret over her like this. As they walked down the hallway, most of the soldiers shot her looks of obvious suspicion, though some were a bit more uncertain than others. It spoke volumes about how much Ratchet must care for his patients – Autobot, Decepticon, or in Mikaela's case, neutral.

"Optimus has some," she said. "I'll get some from him."

Ratchet pursed his lip plates, but eventually veered away and back towards the medical bay. The hallway began to empty of its human residents as the Autobots quarters came into view, and Mikaela slowly opened the door to Optimus' room, seeing his form resting on the berth before closing it behind her.

"Mearing was unhappy," he said, his eyes staring, motionless, up at the ceiling.

"When is she ever not?" Mikaela said, squeezing her slim frame into the ounce of space left on the berth, placing a hand over Optimus' spark.

The mech didn't respond. His hands came up to cover Mikaela's affectionately, his head shifting so she could bury her head in the crook of his neck.

It had been so long since she'd been like this, lying beside him. Eternities, it seemed.

Finally, he spoke. "That was a brave thing you did back there."

"Huh? What? With Jude Garrison?" Mikaela shrugged. "I saw him and Trina together a while ago."

"Did he thank you?"

"He was in that 'shock-and-awe' mode everyone goes into. He took the revelation of the Autobots a lot harder than my own dad did, especially since his daughter is so avidly involved now."

Optimus nodded in understanding, leaned over, and kissed the top of Mikaela's head. Warmth traveled from her helm down to her pedes, and she found herself rumbling with pleasure.

"You know, it's been a while since we've…."

"I know."

"Do you want to try?"

Mikaela felt herself twitch instinctively, and she gave a groan as her joints popped and her gears creaked. She swung one leg around so she could drape herself across him, straddling his waist.

He gave a rumble of pleasure as Mikaela showered kissed up his throat, his cheeks, his lips, and his helm.

"Whenever you're ready."

* * *

><p>They made love several more times after that. On his berth. On her berth. It was almost like a game, one stumbling away and disappearing until the next day, and then retire to whichever room felt necessary for the occasion.<p>

Of course, people started to notice. And by people, Mikaela meant Trina Garrison, probably the most attentive human on the base.

"I don't get it," she said one day, while walking with Mikaela, her machete swinging rhythmically beside her hip. "You two are having sex and making enough noise to wake a dead person. What part of that seems a bit odd to you?"

"The part where you mention that we're having sex."

"Other than that," she shook her head violently and took a sip of her soda, stopping to lean against an abandoned shed beside the tarmac. It was isolated and away from prying eyes, and part of Mikaela wondered if her words had been planned.

"Okay, what? Tell me."

"Megsy'!" Trina said, incredulous. "Ole' Fearless Leader. The one who your mindmate," she tapped the side of her head for emphasis, "Is supposedly in love with?"

"What about him?"

"While you and Optimus have been humping each other's processors out, he's been brooding in a corner. I mean, I'm not saying to invite him in on the action, but, I mean, at least go…."

"He set you up to this, didn't he?"

Trina's face paled, and then, as if Mikaela were an oblivious nimrod with half her processors hanging out of her helm, she said, "No."

"Liar."

Trina chugged a gulp of soda to hide her discomfort.

"He's jealous, isn't he?" Mikaela said. The thought in itself was hilarious, yet bizarre at the same time. Megatron was incapable of anything but loathing and contempt. "In the middle of all this, he's worrying about _emotions_?"

"You kind of shoved it in his face."

"How?"

"By stumbling through the base looking like a drunken monkey, with half your armor hanging off," Trina toyed with the strap that held her machete in place, running her tongue across her teeth, looking as uncomfortable as Mikaela felt. She said, "My advice?"

"Who said I wanted your advice?"

"You do," Trina flashed Mikaela smile. "Go talk to Megatron. I mean, if you're going to have a threesome, like, I don't want to know about it, but you can at least make him feel like part of the squad."

"The squad?"

"Yeah. That's our official name. Made it up myself," Trina grinned savagely. "Me, you, Prime, Megatron. Ratchet, if he can get his ass out of the med bay. Soundwave, if he can learn to be a bit more….um….sociable."

"I doubt that."

"You aren't the first."

Mikaela chuckled, and then glanced down at her friend.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Huh?"

"Thank you for saving me," Mikaela reached out and pressed a finger against the top of her head, smiling when Trina's eyes traveled across her face. "For getting me out of there. I would have died if it hadn't been for you."

Trina just nodded in apprehension and patted Mikaela leg, saying, "What are badass sisters for?" She paused, a devilish smile creeping across her lips. "That's our new name. You and me. Badass Sisters."

Mikaela smiled, staring at the single human friend she had left.

"I like it. I like it, a lot."


	22. Saved by the Medic

Mikaela found him on the other side of the base, leaning against a moss covered wall with his long legs stretched out in front of him. His optics seemed to be searching the stars, his chassis rising and falling with each steady thrum of his spark. In the dim light, Mikaela could make out the jagged line stretched just an inch above his spark, a massive discolored bump from where the shock-stick had struck him.

Other than that, he all cleaned up. Physically. Mikaela didn't want to know what thoughts were rapidly flying through his head at the moment.

"I never really did appreciate this planet," he said suddenly, just as Mikaela sat herself down beside him. "I still don't, but you can't help but marvel at its diversity."

Mikaela's optics flickered to look at him, and he gave her a wry smile.

"You're living the high life, aren't you? Getting a taste of what Optimus has to go through, with all the meeting and councils," Mikaela said. "You've practically been promoted to second and command."

"I thought that was your title."

"I'm more for stealth than brute leadership force," she replied, shrugging. "Plus, there is no way in the Pit that I deserve that position."

"How so?"

Mikaela looked over at him, optic ridges twitching upwards in disbelief. He was doing this on purpose, she assumed. He was part of the reason she would never in a million years be considered a true Autobot or hold a position of authority among their ranks. Even if Optimus were to bend under Mikaela's influence, Mearing would be the one to ultimately disapprove.

"I'm a traitor."

"Prime doesn't act as if you are."

Mikaela gave him a small smile, and she leaned back against the wall. "That's because he and I are…."

"I get it," Megatron interrupted, huffing and crossing his arms.

It was almost civil, the way they spoke to each other. A while ago Mikaela was only his femme, partly filling in for his missing – and now deceased – second in command. Now, he actually held some respect for her, and no matter how little that respect may be, Mikaela took it to heart and tried not to take it for granted. Earning Megatron's respect was like a once in a life time opportunity.

"It doesn't bother you….does it?"

Mental slap. Then another. Mikaela shook her head as soon as the question left her mouth, suddenly wishing she had Trina with her, just to offer some advice. Ever since becoming a Cybertronian, most human tactics had been abandoned, for good reason. Talking to a guy about his feelings? Mikaela felt as if she hadn't done it in eons.

She could only imagine what Megatron felt.

"It bothers me," he answered simply.

Mikaela blinked in surprise.

"But I am in no condition to do anything but sit, like a duck," Megatron spat. "This alliance calls for peace between _both_ factions, and despite my initial instinct to go and thrust my hand right through Prime's spark, I know that there are much more important things to be done."

"As soon as Fisher is dead…." Mikaela bit her lip plates, and then said, "What will you do?"

She'd refrained from saying "we." At this point, Mikaela was still a neutral, despite the relationship she shared with Optimus. In Prime's eyes, a neutral was much better than a Decepticon because it left more room for persuasion. While she'd never thought about it before, she knew that if the Brotherhood was indeed destroyed, then she would have to pick a side.

Roadrunner wanted Decepticon. She wanted Autobot. It was more of a battle between minds than a battle between two lusty, sex-starved mechs.

"It all depends," he said, rubbing his chin. "Who knows? Maybe Prime will die in battle – though I'd much prefer it be by my hands – and you will be promoted. Maybe I will die and N.E.S.T. will have nothing else to fight against."

Both prospects were horrifying.

So, yeah, she did care just a_ small_ bit about Megatron, but that didn't mean she…

"But if we all miraculously survive," Megatron chuckled to himself. "I have seen this planet for what it truly is. Pathetic."

Mikaela grimaced.

"But it does have its perks. For example….the Garrison girl. She's a lively little meatsack," he shook his head, stifling another laugh. "She is one of few who don't portray their species as a bunch of weaklings."

It was a complement, in itself. Mikaela couldn't really see where he was going with it, but oh well. It just showed he could tolerate Trina, a new high for a Decepticon such as himself.

"What about me? When I was a human?"

"I barely noticed you. The Witwicky boy was my main concern, and look how he turned out. I heard that _he _left _you_?"

"Yeah," Mikaela rubbed her arm nervously, and Megatron, sensing her discomfort, wrapped a long arm around her waist, pulling her close. His hot breath tickled her helm and she tried to shrug away, but his grip was like iron. Two tons of it.

"But look at you now," he whispered. "Long, lithe frame," one talon crept across her thigh.

In the back of Mikaela's mind, Roadrunner gave a purr of satisfaction.

"_She_ wants me," Megatron cooed.

"_I_ don't want you."

It was as if someone had dumped ice cold water through her audio receptors, flooding her processors with icy hot stabs of pain. Roadrunner lashed out, a thundering bellow in Mikaela's mind, and she found herself falling onto her back.

Megatron braced his hands on either side of her frame, trapping her beneath his heavy frame and Mikaela, no matter how many times she lunged upward with her feet, Roadrunner forced her back down with whatever subconscious abilities she had left.

_C'mon! Let him have you! _The femme snarled. _Let him have both of us._

_Shut. Up._

_Make me. Blast off your head and I'll be dead. _

Megatron's talons were on her waist and his lip plates were on her neck, her shoulder, dancing across her heaving chest plates. She had only kissed him once, when he'd been dying in her arms. That had been intentional. That had probably saved his life, given him something to hold onto.

He was returning the favor, it seemed.

And then….air! A release from his prison of kisses and bites and growls of sickening pleasure as someone yanked him back so he stumbled onto his aft, roaring with anger.

Mikaela expected to see Optimus, but instead she found the yellow medic, a wrench in his hand and an angry glare settling on both her, and Megatron.

"You're lucky," he said to Megatron, "That I wasn't Optimus. You'd have had a knife right through your spark."

"He wouldn't break the alliance," Megatron spat, getting to his feet. "Stupid medic. What are you doing out here, anyway? Run back to your little science lab, where you bel–"

_Clang!_

The wrench bashed against Megatron's helm, and he stumbled back, clutching the dent.

He cursed, and then stumbled away.

Ratchet helped Mikaela to her feet, and then Mikaela, out of sheer joy, wrapped her arms around his waist in a hug. He returned it – albeit quite awkwardly – and then gently pushed her away.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly.

"Yeah," she said, brushing loose pieces of moss off her armor and grimacing at the scratches Megatron's talons had inflicted.

"That fool," Ratchet cursed once more, and then sheathed his wrench up under his armor. "Optimus will offline him when he find out t–"

"Don't tell Prime."

"What?" Ratchet asked, startled. "He is your mate, he deserve to–"

"_No_," Mikaela stressed. "This alliance must not be broken off. We can't afford to have the two factions split apart again. If we are to beat the Brotherhood….it has to be together."

Ratchet stared at her quizzically, and then said, "Some people do not agree."

"Like who?"

"Mearing," he paused, and then, as if a blush had begun to creep onto his cheeks, he said, "Ironhide."

"Ironhide's denseness can be a liability," Mikaela said. "No offense. I know that you two are…um…"

"I understand."

Silence. Mikaela bit her lip plates, staring across at the medic as he glanced at her, saying, "Was it Roadrunner? Is she back?"

"She's been back, but this time, she had the control," Mikaela rubbed her eyes. "It won't help to examine anything, Ratchet. What's done is done."

"Maybe I can find a way to…."

"It's no use."

He stared at her with wide, sad optics. It was almost like last time, when he had explained how he had been unable to fix Bumblebee's voice box. He had felt useless. A failure.

Mikaela couldn't fathom how he was feeling now, standing there sheepishly, trying to come up with something to say. And this was _Ratchet_. It just went to show how badly he felt because no matter what the circumstance, Ratchet _always_ had something to say.

So the silence stretched on and Mikaela tried to come up with something she could say, something to break the awful silence. Or, maybe, someone to rescue her, give her something else to talk about….

**"Mikaela?"**

Optimus. His voice was tense, as if he was holding something in.

**"Yeah, Prime?"**

**"Please report to Mearing's office. Immediately."**

And then, he was gone. Ratchet looked up, his yellow armor flashing in the sunlight. He gave her a small nod, and Mikaela turned away, leaving him standing out in the sun with his head bowed and his shoulders hunched, making her way towards Mearing's office and wondering why exactly the human wanted her. But the more it nagged at her mind, the more she began to understand the tenseness of Prime's voice.

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.


	23. She Will Break

"I'm sorry, Miss Banes."

Mearing's words were like a gnat buzzing in Mikaela's ear. She wanted to swat at it. Or, more or less, swat her away. He human sat down at her desk, her head hanging, and was making a show of adjusting her glasses even though Mikaela knew that, deep, deep down, she was trying to hide her pity.

Three pictures were displayed on her desk. Three very familiar, yet strikingly different images.

Even though the photograph was grainy Mikaela could still make out that hair, those cold, motionless eyes and the twisted limbs, the red liquid staining the carpet. All from three different angles. All shockingly the same, which made it even more horrifying.

"Your father was a good man."

As If Mearing knew the half of it.

Things like these didn't surprise Mikaela anymore. Starscream. Lennox. Epps. Graham. All of them. Though their deaths had been like a knife in her spark, she'd still had the courage to keep treading forward in hopes that she could avenge them properly.

And now, her father was on that list.

A warm hand on her shoulder caused her to blink several times, still staring at the picture, her processors slowing down to a crawl, like swimming through molasses. She recognized the workshop where her father fixed most of his vehicles, saw how one table was overturned, stained with red, tools scattered across ground, a clear indication that he hadn't gone out without some sort of fight.

"We believe," Mearing said, "That the Brotherhood was behind this."

"When are they not," Optimus snapped, his hand still on Mikaela's shoulder.

Numb. She felt numb, like someone had shoved a syringe into her arm and was sucking out her life, bit by bit, piece by piece, until…..

"Director, if you may allow me to escort Mikaela out before we begin to discuss this," Optimus, almost pleading, noticing Mikaela's swaying figure and the way she gripped his arm, fading in and out.

She had to get out of here before she….before she….

"He's dead," someone was saying, and a part of Mikaela knew that it was her. She couldn't stop staring at that picture, at those glassy eyes and pale complexion. "He's dead. My dad is dead."

"Director…."

"Take her."

Optimus led her outside, and the entire time, Mikaela clutched his arm and tried not to let go, energon rushing through her ears.

Dead. He was dead. Those blank, unseeing eyes said it all….

"Hold on, Mikaela," Optimus breathed.

She didn't know how long it was. Seconds, minutes, hours, but she found herself laying on Prime's berth, her optics focused on the ceiling, each individual dust mite hovering around the light bulbs seemingly more defined than ever. Maybe that was because she was trying to hard not to focus on the inevitable realization that her father was _dead_. He wasn't going to pull an Optimus and come back to life. He was dead, like the rest of them.

A muffled sob escaped her lips.

She felt a hand wrap around her waist as Optimus pulled her to him, cradling her head in his hands, softly kissing her forehead.

"I'm sorry. This is my fault," he said. "I failed to send him home with any Autobot protection ."

"Like it would matter?" Mikaela said, stifling her next sob. Her voice was grated and she felt hot, blue tears streaking down her cheek. "The play is even now, Optimus. Autobot or no Autobot, Fisher would have still had a chance at him. They're just that powerful now."

Optimus did not retaliate and Mikaela knew that he knew she was right. The _play _was even, and there were only so many things they could do about it.

Like killing Fisher. Yeah. That would work. Torture him, beat him, and then cause him as much agony as possible.

Then cut off his head and display it for the entire world to see. And it would be for Lennox, Epps, Starscream, Graham, Jackson, and Sanderson.

Her father.

Yeah. That sounded really, really nice.

* * *

><p>She spent the next three days in Optimus' quarters.<p>

They kissed, they touched, but they did not repeat the past day's events. She didn't think she could bear losing herself in pleasure when her father's corpse was being shipped from Tranquility, down to the base. Mikaela wouldn't get to see it in person, she knew. Mearing wouldn't allow it. And a small part of Mikaela was glad.

She knew the reason why Fisher had gone after him. Payback for his unfortunate escape and the fact that, despite their shaky history, it would break Mikaela into a million pieces.

And he had succeeded.

She felt numb. Maybe it would ebb away, maybe it would last forever. But the sheer shock of it all had left her a trembling, broken mess.

Denial came and went. She told herself, partly, that it was a mistake. Maybe that hadn't been her father. Maybe it had been one of his workers and they had mistaken him for David Banes, the one family Mikaela had left.

And then, it went to, no, no, no, that's not right. N.E.S.T was almost always right. They had him. The Brotherhood had sealed the deal by putting a bullet through his head.

Mikaela clawed at the edges of the berth, hot rage boiling in her spark.

He had gone too far. Fisher had made this even more personal than it already was.

"Hey."

The voice, the small, hesitant whimper caused Mikaela to whip her head around. Her legs were swinging back and forth as she sat on the berth, her eyes directed on the ground, so she'd barely heard Jude Garrison open the door and slide into the room.

He looked pale. Gaunt. Still malnourished from his time spent with the Brotherhood, dark hair brittle, eyes sunken. The fact that he was trembling before Mikaela didn't help at all.

She made a noise in the back of her throat, and the human scratched the back of his head.

"I heard about your father."

"Oh, did you?" Mikaela replied.

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't know him, but I'm sure he was a great man."

Mikaela watched his eyes as they took in her shivering, broken figure. There was pity in his eyes.

She said, "Yeah. He kind of was."

"Can I….." He gestured to the berth, and Mikaela knelt down, gingerly taking him in her hand and lifting him up to sit beside her. His own hands laced together and he glanced down at the drop, gulping.

He said, "You know," he scratched the back of his head, "When Trina's mother died….she went a little crazy."

Mikaela blinked.

"She forgot that she had her friends, I mean."

"If you haven't noticed," Mikaela said curtly, "I'm not particularly liked around the base."

Garrison stared, opened his mouth, and said, "I like you. Trina loves you. Optimus Prime does, too, and so does that cranky yellow medic. And, believe it or not, that big black robot….Ironhide, I think….he has sort of a soft spot for you, too."

"What about…."

"_Megatron_? The Decepticon overlord or whatever?" Garrison barked a laugh. "Nobody knows what's going on inside his head."

"From what Optimus told me, it's like a bag of rabid dogs."

They shared a small laugh, Mikaela rapping her fingers against the metal berth. Beside her, Garrison said, "They have every right to be your friend."

"After all I've done?" Mikaela scoffed. "Did Trina brief you about how I became…." She gestured to her metal frame, her door wings and her red chest plating. "This?"

"A bit. I know what you two get yourselves into on a daily basis," Garrison waggled a finger. "Sneaking out. Trying to do things for the good of others. But, you know what….." He paused, grimacing. "Sometimes that doesn't always work out."

"Tell me about it," Mikaela replied.

"But you did the right thing when you faced Fisher alone," he said. "Saved my life, you did. And I don't think I could ever hate you for that."

He glanced towards the ground and Mikaela wrapped her fingers around his waist, guiding him back down until his feet touched the floor. He straightened his shirt and smiled, heading towards the door.

"Just remember," he said, shooting Mikaela a small smile. "You have all of us to fall back on."

And then he was gone.

Optimus entered the room a few minutes later, holding two cups of energon. His expression was solemn and he looked as tired as Mikaela felt, but only to a certain degree.

He handed Mikaela the cup and she sipped it gratefully, switching nervously between each hand and saying, "How did the meeting go?"

"Megatron was boisterous, as usual," he shook his head in distaste. "We missed you, though."

"I prefer this berth more than I prefer a hot, stinking meeting room filled with ignorant bureaucrats."

Optimus chuckled and seated himself down beside him, a hand rubbing slow circled between her door wings. Mikaela eased into the gesture, giving a sigh of pleasure.

And then, in all seriousness, he said, "How are you?"

"I feel like shit."

"I understand," he peered into his cup of sloshing energon. "Ratchet advised that you get on your feet for a few hours. Maybe take a drive. The two of us can go together, if you'd like."

"Again, this berth is very comfortable."

"It isn't helping anyone, with you sitting in here alone."

"I'm not alone. I have you."

Optimus made a face, standing up and then leaning over to kiss her on the cheek, and then the lips. He said, "You know what I mean. But unless you want a visit from Ratchet, I suggest you heed his advice."

He looked at Mikaela's motionless form, and then shook his head, walking out the door.

"Who knows," Mikaela said to the empty air. "Maybe this time, I actually_ do_ need a wrench upside the head."


	24. Kicking it

She gathered her things and headed out the next day.

She didn't really know what she planned to do. She was improvising. Taking each step, slow and certain that she would reach her goal.

But a part of her knew that she couldn't do it alone.

Megatron caught her as soon as she stepped into the dimly lit, empty hallway. His massive frame rested against one of the walls, arms crossed over his massive, scarred chassis. His head was tilted at a condescending, yet curious angle.

He said, "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah," Mikaela replied, brushing past him. "And chances are, I'm not coming back."

He snorted, and gripped her arm. Anger surged through her and she snarled, slapping at the appendage that so firmly gripped her armor.

"Don't touch me."

He reached for her.

"Touch me and I. Will. _Kill._ You."

"Go ahead," he said, spreading his arms out wide. "That's one less player in this nefarious game. One less pawn for Fisher to move around. You_ are_ going out to face him, aren't you?"

Mikaela gulped, and then nodded.

"Silly femme," he chided. "Going alone."

There was a rustle, and the sound of heavy footsteps. Mikaela squeezed her mouth tight to keep from cursing as a flash of red and blue engulfed her vision, Optimus' form striding around a corner, flanked by Trina, her gun draped over her shoulder.

She looked ready for something, jaw set under grim complexion, her multicolor hair swept back behind her ears. In her left hand was something long, like a staff, and Mikaela realized that it was the shock-stick used to stab Megatron. It's tip, though, had been sharpened into a wickedly curved blade.

"No," Mikaela said. "I have to do this alone."

"Cut the shit, Mikaela," Trina called. "You know how long it took me to convince Prime to let me come? I'm not missing out on a chance to end Caine Fisher, no matter what you say."

"I'm breaking the rules, here," Mikaela snapped. "You really want to be pulled into all this, huh, Trina?"

"Hell, yes," she said. "I've been waiting for a chance to go on one of your little 'escapes' for ages!"

Optimus groaned and rubbed his eyes, seemingly confused at the banter exchanged between the two femme's. He said, "This has to end sometime, Mikaela. The Brotherhood has gone too far, and Mearing will not let me deploy any troops to do something about it. She want to wait for a chance at them, but doesn't seem to realize that there is a chance, right here."

"So we're breaking the rules," Megatron added. "You should be good at this, Mikaela."

"True that," she answered ruefully, scratching the back of her helm. She said, "Do we even have a game plan."

"We do what we do best," Trina answered, "blast our way through. Worst case scenario would be if one of us got captured. From what I heard, Fisher isn't in the mood to kill us right on the spot."

"No," Mikaela added. "He'll take us, and melt us down into scrap."

The cringes on Optimus and Megatron's faces were astounding. Prime said, "Lucky for us, Fisher's technology used to mask Barricade's signal faltered for one moment. I was able to detect how fast he is moving, and in what direction."

"Where?" Megatron asked.

"An old energon mine," he answered softly. "One of the few on this planet. West from here, close to the California border."

"Oh, joy," Mikaela groaned. "Home, sweet home."

A thin silence stretched between the four of them, Mikaela biting her bottom lip thoughtfully, Trina shifting from one foot to the other. A dull glow radiated from the tip of the shock-stick she was carrying, along with a crackle of electricity every now and then. She thumbed her gun, securing the strap over her shoulder.

She said, "This is a suicide mission."

"What must be done, must be done," Optimus answered. "I, too, am tired of waiting."

"You've just gotten that desperate, hm?" Megatron crowed.

A nod.

"Then we'd better get going," he said, thundering towards the base's exit.

Mikaela glanced down at Trina, seeing her determined expression, her hard set jaw and her clenched fist. Mikaela said, "Are you ready?"

"Whenever you are."

"Good. Then let's kick."

* * *

><p>It was the most awkward, heavy-hearted drive of Mikaela's life.<p>

Trina sat in the driver's seat, the spear laying across the back seat, gun cocked. She toyed with her hair in the mirror, adjusted her scope, glanced back every once and a while to see Optimus following on ground and Megatron streaking overhead. Not once did she make a move to touch the wheel, and for that, Mikaela was thankful.

"I want to get this done and dusted before the sun rises, alright?" She said, speaking directly to the dashboard. The message would carry across a separate link, informing Optimus and Megatron at the same time.

A low, gravelly voice boomed back.

"Whatever you say, fleshling," Megatron gave a wry chuckle. "That is, if we even survive."

"Don't fill us with any second thoughts, Megatron," Mikaela said. "You know, this is almost like last time."

"Minus a particular Seeker," he replied sadly. "And this time, we will succeed. We won't have to worry about any interruptions from any_ Autobots_."

Another voice cut in, low, but not filled with so much contempt. "I intervened because it was getting out of hand."

"Of course you did, _brother_."

"Hey," Trina barked. "Hey. No fighting."

Mikaela mentally sighed, dread creeping into her spark. The possibilities were endless. Any of them could be killed or captured due to a simple lapse of teamwork, and that, in itself, was the half of it. Barricade counted for a significant part of the Brotherhood armed forces, not because of his fighting skills, but because he was responsible for Fisher's safety. He was the ultimate bodyguard and while Mikaela didn't doubt she, Megatron, or Optimus could handle him, there was also Fisher _himself_…..

"Barricade is mine," Megatron cut in.

"The honor is all yours."

They rode on in silence once more.

Maybe it was three hours later, maybe it was more. Trina had the seat reclined and her head laying back, gun in her lap. She awoke with a start, peering out the window at the vast expanse of lights.

"Did he build this place right over the mine?" Optimus asked, puzzled.

"_That's_ where they get all their energon from," Mikaela said quietly. "You know, for Barricade and the….creature."

"That's a lot," Trina said, frowning.

They transformed next to a cliff face, a ways away from the plant. There was no way, Mikaela reasoned as she saw the workers and guards milling around, that they would be able to bust their way through.

Megatron said, as he landed with a crash beside them, "Fleshling everywhere….disgusting. And look at all the energon they're hording for themselves…."

"For the monster, Megatron," Mikaela waggled a finger. "And their loyal rogue Decepticon dog."

A growl reverberated through Megatron's chest, and he clenched his talons, staring out at the vast expanse of machinery and metal before him.

"There's a tunnel," Trina said.

"How would you know, meatsack?" Megatron asked her.

She sighed, slamming the end of the shock-stick against the dirt. "My name is _not_ meatsack, it is _Trina. Jean. Garrison_," she licked her lips. "And I know because of Dr. Maureen Alister. Remember her?"

Megatron and Mikaela nodded while Optimus looked utterly confused.

"Well, since she, technically, was an elite member of the Brotherhood and evidently – as I found out later – Dr. Koenig's fuck-buddy, so she got a lot of classified information spewed too her by unsuspecting scientist and….architects, if you must."

"And the tunnel….." Optimus urged.

"Oh, yeah," Trina gestured with her spear towards the far end of the cliff face. "There's a massive steel grate on the other side. Leads down into the sewers where they empty out all the excess energon."

Megatron bolted and Optimus followed, Mikaela picking up Trina as they made their away across boulders and drops, picking their way past shrubbery, trying to go as quickly and quietly as possible. Unlike Mikaela, Megatron and Optimus weren't built for such stealth, and the job was much, much more difficult than she'd previously anticipated.

They approached the tunnel with caution, Mikaela peering through the crisscross pattern of metal. It was, indeed, big enough to fit her lithe frame. And Optimus and Megatron's, maybe, if they curled into a ball and rolled.

And that was good enough for her.

Megatron tore apart the grate with his bare talons, throwing it to the side and taking the lead. He knelt, ducked his head, and began to inch on his hands and knees.

"Determined, aren't we?" Trina murmured as Mikaela placed her on the ground. As she entered behind the silver mech, she covered her nose with her fingers. "It smells like shit down here."

As Mikaela entered behind her, the smell hit her olfactory sensors, tenfold. If it was bad for Trina, whose sense of smell was far less advanced than that of a Cybertronian, than it was even worse for Mikaela, who gagged on the thick, putrid air as soon as her head entered the tunnel.

"Oh, Primus," Optimus groaned.

The smell was a mixture of dirt, raw, untamed energon and human waste, all mixed together. It seemed to seep into Mikaela's processors, making her cough and cover head nose with her hand.

"Keep pushing forward," Megatron called from the front, choking on the scent. "Don't think about it."

"It's kind of hard not to, Megs," Trina answered, gripping her shock-stick tightly and stepping on the old, grimy concrete.

So they kept moving forward, and did not look back.

"Trina?" Mikeala whispered. "Do you know where this tunnel leads?"

The human blinked, and then stared.

"No. Not really."

"_Perfect_."


	25. The Defector Games

**Again with the next-day update. I know, I know. I do apologize for the short chapter, but it is building to the hopefully-epic climax of this entire series. Lots of action coming up, for those of you who enjoy it.**

**Anyway, I don't own Transformers. Trina Garrison – who, right now, is one of my favorite OC's - and the rest of the lot ( You know who they are) are mine, though. If you want to use any of them, go ahead, but please ask first. Oh, and don't forget to leave a review! **

* * *

><p>The tunnel curved. It dipped. More than once Mikaela bashed her head against the ceiling and cursed so loud that Trina dropped her spear just to cover her ears.<p>

Maybe this really was suicide. Sure, they were big. Sure, all of them, Trina included, were skilled in a fight.

But them against the Brotherhood, and Barricade? And the monster?

Those were the sides, and the odds were not in Mikaela's favor.

So they trekked on, the three Cybertronians crawling on their hands and knees, Trina walking on two legs, holding up the shock-stick and letting its every growing blue hue guide the way. Occasionally one of them would falter and wind up on their face, other times they would jump at a sound and find out that it was just a rat scuffing along. But not once did the smell get better, or worse.

Soon, the tunnel widened. Noises could be heard, coming from up top. Humans. The occasional roar of that awful, Starscream-eyed monster.

"Alister's advice proved useful after all, _Trina_," Megatron sneered.

"Hey. You said my name!"

And that was the end of that conversation. Mikaela and Optimus chuckled at the pointless banter between them, able to edge onto their knees and sit up, now that the tunnel's ceiling had retreated upward. Mikaela was able to crouch due to her small size, creeping forward towards Megatron, who was peering up.

Human feet shuffled over another metal grate, light streaming through. Megatron was keeping to the shadows, though, just in case.

A roar.

"The monster…." Trina breathed.

Optimus gulped. "I have not seen the creature myself, though I have heard many tales…."

"You don't want to see it," Mikaela whispered back, and Optimus cringed.

"So, are we just bursting in and expecting Fisher or what?" Trina said. "Megatron, Mikaela, this is your specialty. Lead the way."

It was almost a simultaneous event, in itself. Mikaela stood to her full height and Megatron readied his blaster, sticking it up under the metal grate, the familiar whirr of energy indicating that it was about to charge.

"Megatron!" Optimus cried, loud enough for several of the humans to take notice and look down…..

And find themselves staring at the end of Megatron's glowing red weapon.

_Blam!_

The noise echoed around the tunnel and Trina covered her ears and ducked at the metal grate, along with whoever had been standing on it, was blown upward as if they had been shot out of a cannon. Mikaela watched in awe as bits and pieces of shattered metal and burning flesh rained down from the square hole, content to just sit back and let Megatron do all the hard work.

The silver mech hoisted himself up and into the room above, gesturing for the rest of them to follow. Mikaela grabbed Trina around the waist and followed, Optimus scurrying up right behind her.

What a grand entrance the had made, Mikaela mused.

The glare of the lights settled down and Mikaela was able to see which room they had come upon. It was more of a cavern than a laboratory, littered with startled humans as they got a glimpse of the three massive, and one small yet heavily armed figured in the center of the room.

And, almost all of them pointed in unison at the hallway on the opposite side of the room.

"He's down that way," one of them squeaked. "He's been expecting you."

"Of course he has," Mikaela mumbled, and followed as Megatron thundered across the room, disappearing around the corner. Trina ran behind him, and then Mikaela, and then Prime.

The hallway dipped and curved and sloped, the corners becoming narrow and the ceiling decreasing in height, much to Optimus' distaste. There was no telling what was at the end – maybe a squadron of guards all armed with shock-sticks, maybe Barricade and Fisher maybe the creature.

As they found out six minutes later, it was all of the above.

Megatron inched into the mine first, gazing up at the black, energon littered walls. The massive cubes provided most of the light in the room, and Mikaela couldn't even tell how high the ceiling rose up into the air.

Of all the things too see before you die….it just had to be cubes and cubes of energon.

"Fucking hoarders," Trina spat, disgusted.

And, of course, as always, the Honorable Caine Fisher was there as well, standing next to a massive, brown object with his hand on its hide. Mikaela knew what it was. Hoped it didn't move or raise its massive head because there was no way in hell she could stand to look into those deep, crimson, familiar optics.

Barricade flanked Fisher, along with several guards. Not enough to take on any of them – well, maybe Trina, but her ruthlessness would provide her with something of an advantage.

Speaking of Trina, the human was clicking off the safety on her gun.

"Now, now, Garrison," Fisher soothed. "No need for that."

Weapons ready. Barricade crouched in front of his accomplice like some sort of leaping lion.

"Optimus Prime," he continued. "And Megatron? Alive and well, I see. Tell me, how have you managed to pull together this little band of misfits and work together under the same roof?"

"Mikaela warned you that we were collaborating, fleshling," Megatron snarled. "It was unwise not to take that into notice."

"And do what?" He spread his arms out wide, his gold embedded tie flapping as he said, "Call of my entire operation? No, it was you who was unwise, Megatron. I made it clear that anyone who gets in my way will pay the price. Starscream learned that the hard way."

Megatron lunged but Optimus tackled him like a linebacker, pulling him back and snarling, "Let it go and focus on what we're here to do!"

A chuckle. Fisher patted the side of the monsters head and it stirred, much to Mikaela's horror. It unfurled long, veined wings that stretched towards the ceiling, its monstrosity of a head peeking out from behind its forearm. Jagged teeth stretched into a horrifying pantomime of a grin, optics zeroing in on Megatron, Prime, Mikaela, and Trina.

Megatron made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a whimper. Trina just stared, trying to seem indifferent but failing. Optimus' face was a mixture of rage, horror, and awe.

Mikaela was the only one who looked calm, but on the inside. She was screaming. Screaming and screaming and screaming. She had no doubt that on command, this creature would kill all four of them.

And it would. But not now. She knew Fisher, knew that he would drag this out as long as he could, just for the fun of it.

She steeled herself and said, "This is crazy. The government won't take…." She gestured to the dragon, watching smoke curl from its nostrils. "Whatever this is."

"It's the ultimate bribe, Miss Banes," he answered gleefully. "This was a long time coming. Your father, when he was imprisoned, he knew of such plans. Did he tell you, or did dear old daddy wait too long?"

Now it was Mikaela's turn to lunge and Megatron's turn to grab her around the waist, lips tickling her audio receptors.

She shoved him away, the events from a few nights ago coming back, tenfold. She didn't want him touching her. Never would.

"Mark my words," Mikaela snarled. "You will not leave here tonight alive."

"You came to kill me?" Fisher seemed a tad bit nervous, but quickly shut it down once he seemed to realized that the odds of Mikaela and the others winning against Barricade, the guards, _himself_, and the creature, were slim.

Mikaela said, a devilish smile creeping onto her lips, "Answer this, _Caine_," her lip plates twitched upward in a nasty sneer. "Which would you prefer? Death, or madness?"

"Madness," he answered. "Because I'd rather go mad than die by your hands."

"Fair enough."

She lunged, leaping over Trina's shivering frame towards him…..

She didn't expect for a massive white and black police mech to body slam her, full speed, like a battering ram. The air exploded from her and she gasped, seeing Optimus and Megatron and Trina begin to react, weapons raised.

"Wait!" A voice cried, as Barricade hooked a fist into her face. Hot, fresh energon spilled from her lips and she gave a gurgling protest. "Wait!"

Barricade eased back.

Fisher was clapping languidly, leaning against the creature and looking utterly bored even though he had been charged by the snarling, angry bull that was Mikaela.

"Before I go insane, I have one final request," he examined his nails, trying to look nonchalant. "I do so love games, as you know. Any game. But one in particular has always been my favorite."

Mikaela watched, still being straddled by Barricade, as he said, "Banes versus Barricade. One-on-one."

"The terms?" Barricade interjected.

"Too the death."

Optimus sucked in a breath and Megatron narrowed his optics, saying, "And does she get any say in this?"

"Oh, come now," Fisher chided. "She already gets the luxury of driving me to insanity."

Mikaela pushed Barricade away, stemming the flow of energon from her nose and lips. She stumbled on her feet, but righted herself, watching the human guards advance forward, shock-sticks in hand. The pushed Trina and the others to the opposite end of the room, up against the wall, wary.

"The stage is all yours, Miss Banes," Fisher said, and the creature tilted its abomination of a head to the side, its optics – no, Starscream's optics – staring at Mikaela, seeming to slice past to her very spark. "Make it count."

Barricade circled her, his talons clicking dangerously. Mikael tried to recall what Ironhide had taught her, the stances, the moves, but all she got was a blank page. The fear, it was robbing her of the ability to think and she was sure she would die if she didn't…..

**"Remember," **Optimus whispered through the link. **"Knees bent, arms out. You can do this. I love you, no matter what happens, alright?"**

**"Love you, too."**

Barricade lunged and Mikaela threw herself to the side, back digging into the hard concrete floor.

"It's almost ironic," Fisher chimed. "Two neutral Cybertronians, fighting for a title. Well, you know what they say…."

Mikaela stared at him with utter hatred and contempt.

"May the best traitor win."


	26. Fire

Mikaela and Barricade circled each other like battling wolves.

Off to the side, Trina stood, shaking so badly that Optimus – much to the annoyance of the guards – knelt down and stroked her back with one finger. Megatron was watching the ensuing battle, lips pulled into a grim line.

Barricade lunged first. His talons scraped Mikaela's chest plates and she fell back, flailing madly, managing to connect her foot with his stomach. Then, as she righted herself, she readied her weapon and raised it above her head.

The ancient steel metal sliced through Barricade's arm as she brought it down, fending off one of his furious onslaughts.

_Roadrunner, _she gasped. _Roadrunner! I need your help!_

_Oh, really? _

_Yes! Please!_

_Ah, well. If you die, I die. Get your knees bent, arms tucked. Don't let him get behind you or under you, keep him in your line of sight. _

Mikaela did as she was instructed, bending her knees slightly.

_On your toes! _She barked.

Barricade came at her once more, and Mikaela stepped to the side, parrying a blow from his fist before ducking under his arms and swiping his legs out from under him.

_Score!_

_It's not over yet, _Mikaela told her.

Barricade was picking himself up off the ground when Mikaela tackled him, gripping his shoulders and bashing his head against the floor so hard that the concrete cracked, little chips flying.

He spat out globs of energon that splattered against Mikaela's cheek, his talons flailing madly, the sharp tips sliding up Mikaela's armor and slicing through the tubes and wires.

Blue liquid seeped from Mikaela's fingers as she stumbled back, Barricade having kicked her in the stomach. Her back pressed against the wall as he grabbed her once more, thrusting his knee into her torso, jarring her tanks.

_I told you not to let him get the upper hand! _Roadrunner wailed, and with each blow, Mikaela felt her receding deeper and deeper into her brain. _Let me take control of you, like last time! Let me take control!_

_No!_

_I can help you win!_

_Help me win, but this is my body, and my mind, _Mikaela grunted, hooking a fist into the side of Barricade's head. The mech spun like a top, each little strand of energon seeming to hang in the air for a moment, and then splatter against the ground. Mikaela readied her blaster, aimed, and then blasted Barricade in the stomach.

She saw Fisher dive to the side as he tumbled over the creature and into the wall, shrieking like a madmech.

Please be dead, please be dead, please be dead….

Mikaela saw one grimy talon grip the ground, and then he threw himself over the creature, over Fisher, into Mikaela's rigid form.

His chest was smoking, crackling, popping, but it didn't matter. They rolled in their own puddle of energon, Mikaela doing everything she can to get him off her. Roadrunner's shrieks and bellows didn't help her cause, though.

She managed to wriggle out from his grip and bound towards the wall, pressing her back against is, seeing Barricade turn, his chest dripping energon.

His deformed mouth pulled upward in a smile and he charged like an angry bull.

Mikaela rolled against the wall and he ended up running, heedless, into the concrete.

_There! Stab him!_

Mikaela thrust her sword but it dug into concrete, not Barricade. The mech had stumbled back and was coming at her again, grappling with her face and chest.

She elbowed him in the jaw, and then, using her slim, lithe figure as an advantage, slipped under his spread legs to come up behind him.

He turned, and got a fist in the face.

His form slammed into the wall, slumping down like raindrop. Trina gave a cry of appraisal and Optimus looked impressed, Megatron quirking an optics ridge.

Energon dripped from Barricade's lips, his optics blinking on, and then off.

_Finish h-_

Roadrunner was abruptly cut off when he reared upward, suddenly, talons thrusting into Mikaela's abdomen.

The pain was shocking.

It was like a million needles, stabbing and stabbing and stabbing and….she couldn't think. Couldn't focus. Up was down and down was up and whatever she did, any movement, any breath, was filled with agony.

She screamed. Roadrunner screamed.

"Shit!"

She spat out and rammed her head against Barricade's, feeling him slack off. She pulled herself away from him, his talons coming loose and spewing that foul thick, liquid blue substance than ran in a steady stream down the floor. She doubled over, clutching her abdomen, feeling Barricade's fist flying forward.

But she was too weak to block the blow….too weak to….

One. Two. Three. All blows to her head, and Mikaela felt one optic go dark. The other was blinking rapidly, Barricade's face shifting in and out of view, dark, then light, dark, then light, dark…..

Light.

His next punch must have secured the feed because his face was normal again, smug, satisfied. He was limping slightly but still able to grip her throat and _fling_ her across the room so she skidded, leaving a trail of blue in her wake.

She landed on her back, staring up at the shifting ceiling.

"This is not a game for fools," he hissed, finally forming his gun and approaching Mikaela, aiming it downwards. "This is not a _world_ for fools."

Mikaela spat and the energon splashed against his cheek. One hand was secured tightly over the gaping wound in her stomach, the others sifting through a puddle of blue to try and find something, something to save her.

_This is it, _Roadrunner said sadly. _We've lost._

_No. We've only just begun._

**"Optimus, Megatron," **she commed. **"Get ready to run."**

No rely. He was too bust staring at the scene before him, the guards aiming the shock-sticks at their sparks, and in one case, heart. Megatron seemed to get the inference, though, and nodded ever so slightly.

Fisher was standing, his hands in his pockets, oblivious.

The creature was watching with mock fascination.

Barricade aimed the gun downward, at her spark, saying, "You had your chance, Mikaela Banes. And you threw it away."

Mikaela felt the familiar charge of energy, the hum and his weapon got ready to fire….

_Now! _Roadrunner cried.

She arched her back and threw her legs up into the air as hard and far as she could, lashing out with a well-aimed kick to his wrist. The three shots he fired were wild, all over the place, streaking against the wall above Trina's head.

Plaster and rock rained down. A massive slab fell and crushed the guard watching Trina, and she whooped, cocking her gun and rushing forward.

Another shot missed Optimus by inches, but the sheer blast knocked the guard off his feet, his weapon clattering to the floor. Optimus stepped on it and threw himself into the fray.

Megatron's guard had gotten the full brunt of the blast, and there was nothing left.

Barricade stared with horrific amazement.

Because of that, he missed Mikaela's sword as it buried itself right in his spark. She twisted it sharply and the mech, energon flying from his lips, optics wide and bulging, clawed feebly at Mikaela before his head lolled back and he went silent.

Mikaela pulled out her sword, letting his body fall to the ground, and stared at Fisher.

He was watching her with wide eyes.

He bolted.

"I got him!" Trina shouted, streaking down the hallway after him. Mikaela made a move to follow, but stopped as the creature gave a bellow of anguish.

Megatron stopped and stared, but Optimus kept on running.

"Prime!"

Optimus threw himself atop the creature, and buried his swords in its back. The monster reared upward and bellowed so loudly that chunk of rock and dirt and dust fell from the ceiling, Megatron waving at hand at Mikaela.

"Go! Get Fisher! Kill him!" He joined Optimus, leaping atop the monster and wrapping his arms around its neck. "Run!" He bellowed. "Run!"

Mikaela ran.


	27. Endgame

Mikaela streaked down the hallway, spewing energon from her stomach. The scene so weirdly familiar. She saw Trina, sprinting, arms pumping.

_He isn't getting away, he isn't getting away, he isn't….._

_Shut up, Roadrunner!_

Fisher turned a corner and Trina cocked her gun, aimed, and fired a blast.

The bullet chipped the corner, missing Fisher by inches. But the man had fallen, tripped, landed on his knees and Trina had gained on him, clicking off another shot that missed because he had rolled over on his back, crawling on his hands.

Trina approached him, panting, the barrel of the gun aimed at his head.

"Don't you do it," Fisher said, his breathing labored. His honey colored hair clung to his face, his perfect features morphing in a monstrous grin.

"And why shouldn't I?" Trina replied through clenched teeth.

"Trina….." Mikaela warned.

And then, she heard it.

A high pitched whistle.

_Ambush! _Roadrunner spewed, and Mikaela dropped to the ground.

The first shock-stick skidded across the ground, drawing up sparks. Trina shrieked and fell, accidentally squeezing the trigger and blasting a light bulb overhead. Her spear clattered and slid across the floor. She landed on her back, cursing loudly, as the second shock-stick sailed over her head and embedded itself into Mikaela's side.

Electricity shot through her. Explosions of light erupted in her vision and she gave a cry of despair, drawn to one knee when a shock-stick sailed from the shadows and rammed into her leg.

Energon caked the ground and the walls, Mikaela bracing herself on both, trying to regain some sense of reality. The pain, oh, Primus, the agony. It hurt so, so much…..

She had to keep fighting. Had to keep moving...

Another shock-stick, slamming and sticking in her shoulder. More electricity. More pain.

Screams of sheer agony boiled up inside her. She landed on her face, and then shifted her head to the side, getting a slightly vertical view of what was happening.

Fisher….he was moving. Gripping the gun. Trina fired but it was muffled because of the body in front of it.

The bullet. He had to have been shot. He had to have been…..

Trina screamed as his fist connected with her jaw, and then her eye. Blood splattered onto the ground and Mikaela couldn't do anything but lay there and watch the fight, helpless. Her limbs were numb due to the electricity, the smell of blood, sweat, and spilled energon overpowering her senses.

Trina's back slammed against the wall, the barrel of his gun thrust up under Fisher's chin. He reared back at the last second and….

_Blam!_

The blinding hot flash of light seemed to blind him for a moment, and Trina took the opportunity to drive her knee into his stomach and then bash the barrel of the gun against the side of his head. Blood ran down his face like a river, one eye already swollen shut. But he resisted as she caught him in a chokehold, intending to use the gun to blast off his head.

Maybe it was pure luck or fate. Fisher's fingers closed in an iron grip over Trina's, stopping her from pulling the trigger. He drove an elbow into her stomach.

Once.

Twice.

Mikaela heard the unmistakable sound of ribs cracking and tried to rear up to help, but her legs flew out from under her and she landed on her face, groaning.

_Get up! _Roadrunner screamed. _Get up!_

She pushed herself up onto one knee, tried to crawl, but that leg ended up wobbling and then sending her crashing back onto the ground.

She watched in horror as Fisher gripped Trina's arm, pulling her forward so she whinnied in pain and terror. Trina was fumbling with the gun, her grip slackening, and Fisher was able to gain the upper hand and tear the gun from her grip, angling it so it faced Trina. The human reacted instinctually, twisting her body, and from the angle, Mikaela couldn't tell which direction the explosion went.

All she knew was that someone had a bullet in them.

The two staggered around drunkenly, their wounds sapping the strength from their body. Fisher had indeed been shot but though it was a gaping wound in his side, he was still moving strong. It was only a matter of time before one of them gave up and the other finished them off.

For good.

Suddenly, Fisher managed to grip Trina and deliver another earth-shattering blow that drove her to the floor, blood streaming from her nose and mouth. She pushed herself up, but fell back down, moaning in agony, as Fisher slammed his foot into her ribs. Blood flew from her mouth and splattered against the white floors, and she seemed to curl up into the fetal position, shivering.

_No! No, no, no! _Roadrunner's voice seemed torn between screaming and sobbing.

Mikaela's vision was wavering slightly. The electricity seemed to have shut off her systems, immobilizing her limbs. She could rotate a hip and move an arm – but not without the pain. The sheer agony.

She was leaking energon, watching her best friend die before her.

Fisher gripped Trina and lifted her up off the ground, his battered, bloody face a mask of rage. Trina's face had paled dramatically and Mikaela could see the bullet wound, a hole the size of a quarter, blossoming across her thigh and staining her clothes, as well as the floor, red.

Maybe it was pure adrenaline they were running on. Trina seemed worse for wear, and Fisher's strength was dwindling. Both seemed to be in that universal "fight or flight" mode and they were using it to their full advantage.

Trina reared back and spat a glob of blood mixed with saliva into Fisher's eye, causing him to stumble and release his hold on her.

Trina, hair caked with blood and a disheveled mess upon her head, pulled herself from his grip and slammed her fist up under his chin. The effect was immediate. Blood dribbled down his flesh and his jaw seemed to snap, rendering him of the ability to scream or even cry. Trina curled her hands around his throat and slammed his head against the wall.

_Crack._

Again and again, screaming at the top of her lungs. But Fisher's limbs did not cease their struggling even though the side of his head had turned a deep crimson, a startling contrast against his pale skin.

And then, Trina threw his battered body to the ground, fumbling with her gun, swaying on her feet but still able to level, aim, and…..

_Finish him! _

_Click._

Empty. The gun was empty.

Fisher laughed, a gurgle of blood in the back of his throat, and then lunged upward.

The gun flew from Trina's fingers as he nailed her with his fist, once, twice, in the mouth, eye, jaw. His blows were calculated and brutal, snapping Trina's head to the side with each hit. She stumbled, righted herself, and then was thrown to the side by another barrage of violent, furious punches.

"No!" Mikaela managed a weak croak, digging her fingers into the ground and trying to pull herself into the conflict. But she was too weak. Too injured. Her fingers searched through the oily blue energon, trying to find a handhold, the pain a roaring lion in her ears. She couldn't move, didn't want to move because of the pain….Oh, Primus, the pain….

_Crawl, damn it! _Roadrunner bellowed. _Crawl!_

Mikaela crawled.

Trina was screaming, forced to the ground as Fisher drove a knee into her side. Her head bounced against the floor and her limbs seemed to go limp, but only for a moment as Fisher locked her arms together with his knees, straddling her waist.

His hands turned a frightening red color as he punched her again and again.

_The shock-stick! _Roadrunner shouted, exultant. _Go to the shock-stick!_

It was just a few yards away, its tip glowing slightly. It had slid across the ground when Trina had dropped it, and now, as Mikaela used her one good arm to pull her towards it, it was her salvation.

No, _Trina's_ salvation.

Fisher had his fingers around her throat, pressing a thumb against her pulse. Squeezing.

Choking.

Trina's legs flailed like a marionette, her mouth open and gurgling with blood. Fisher kneeled over her, triumphant, a malevolent grin spreading across his face. The girl beneath him was writhing, trying to scream but unable to produce a sound because of the hands effectively crushing her windpipe.

Mikaela crawled as fast as she could but it wouldn't be fast enough, she knew, to somehow enter the fight on her own. Fisher's fingers were digging into her flesh and she was beginning to go limp, her legs slowing to a steady, silent beat against the floor.

The shock-stick glowed brightly as Mikaela twisted it with her finger, angling the curved tip towards the brutal fight before her.

Fisher was too preoccupied with a dying Trina to even notice Mikaela.

_Angle it, _Roadrunner whispered. _You know what to do._

Mikaela did so.

_I can't do this, _she said.

_Yes, you can._

_I c-_

_I believe in you._

It was a simple human gesture, really, initiated by a wounded Cybertronian. Finger back, curled. Power building behind it and then released in a single flick – like flicking a bug off your shoulder or playfully flicking your friend – that sent the entire shock-stick sailing through the air like a bullet.

Caine Fisher had approximately one second to look up and meet Mikaela's optics before the shock-stick buried itself into his heart.


	28. Slay the Beast

**Can you believe this is the second to last chapter? Anywho, you guys know the drill. I don't own Transformers. Also, I have decided to upload this chapter and the last, due to the fact that I will be away from my computer for the next week. Leave a lovely review, as always. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Fisher's death was far from pleasant.<p>

The shock-stick had momentum and therefore it hit harder, sinking deep into his chest. As he knelt over Trina, the impact jarring his entire frame, he stared at Mikaela with wide eyes.

And then, the electricity. Though it coursed through his veins and caused his legs and arms to spasm, blood falling from his parted lips with each jarring blow of energy, he still was able to grip the shock-stick, and then pull it from his body.

But it was too late.

Mikaela felt hot energon tears drip down her cheek, a sob escaping her as she watched him fall off of Trina's motionless body, clutching the gaping wound in his chest, blood pumping like a garden hose, seeping through his fingers. He was trying to hold on, she realized. His mouth opening and closing as he tried to speak.

But in the end, he went down.

Fell onto his back, stared up at the ceiling, eyes open but no longer seeing.

Mikaela struggled to stand once more, the shock-sticks blinking with electricity. The pain was incredible, a roar behind her ears and eyes. She pawed ineffectively at the ground, sobbing.

"Trina," she croaked.

The body did not stir.

"Trina….." she called again.

She wasn't moving.

No, no, no, this couldn't be happening. No, no, this wasn't real. This was a hoax. A trick added to her fucked up life.

She was not losing her best friend.

Mikaela steeled herself and then did the hardest thing she had every done in her entire existence. She stood up.

The pain. That was all she could think about. The agony. It ran through her entire frame and everything, the walls, the floor, the blue energon and crimson blood that stained the hallway, was made up of it.

She fell to her knees.

In the back of her mind, Roadrunner had retreated and was not coming back.

The human's face was pale, eyelids shut tight. Her face was battered to the point of mutilation, blood and sweat clinging to her flesh. One arm was bent slightly, one leg twisted at an unnatural angle.

Mikaela gently touched her chest, trying to feel her heartbeat.

She got none.

"Wake up," she sobbed. "Wake up."

Trina did not move.

Mikaela bowed her head and cried.

Maybe it was the Prime's. Maybe it was some cosmic, unseen force. Maybe it was destiny.

Trina's eyes fluttered open and took a gigantic gulp of air.

"Holy shit," she said.

Mikaela couldn't help it. She laughed out loud, wiping away her tears and scooping Trina up in her arm, hands wrapped gingerly around her waist. The human was testing her limbs, wincing every now and then.

Mikaela pressed her against her own chest, next to her spark.

"You, Trina Garrison, are amazing."

"I don't feel amazing," she said. "I feel like shit. Oh, God, my head….I think I have a concussion. Several, actually."

Mikaela set her down on the ground and she stumbled, nearly slipping on a puddle of Fisher's blood. She stared at the corpse, wrinkling her nose. Then, she reached down and grabbed her shock-stick, glancing at its bloody tip.

"He's gone," she said. "It's over."

An explosion sounded. The walls shook and Mikaela snapped back into action, stumbling on her aching legs. Trina said, "Let me look at you."

She reached up and gripped the end of a shock-stick, deftly pulling it from Mikaela's limbs.

A scream.

"Sorry," she said, "But we….have to get moving…." She wiped blood from her split lip, painting the back of her hand red. She yanked another shock-stick out.

She threw them to the ground and Mikaela began to walk on aching legs, knees banging together, down the hallway.

"Optimus and Megatron need us," Mikaela said, glancing down at Trina as she hobbled along, clutching her head. Her clothes were torn and stained, and she was limping, barely able to stay upright.

Yeah. Like they would be able to help.

* * *

><p>When the entered the tavern, it was a bloodbath.<p>

Human guards lay strewn across the place, weapons abandoned. Some sat huddled in a corner. Off to the side, Barricade, miraculously, was still alive and using whatever ounce of strength he had left to crawl away.

The creature was on all four legs, swinging its head back and forth. Optimus sat atop it, his sword stabbing again and again into its exposed joints. He was coated in energon, both his own, and the creatures. It a horrifying display and Mikaela knelt down, shuddering, gripping Trina before she could collapse.

"Optimus!" He looked up, and then, three seconds later, was sent flying across the room, slamming into a stone support beam and smashing right through it.

A cloud of dust rose from where he landed, and out of the corner of her eye, Mikaela saw Megatron streaking across the ground, blaster raised and firing. The blows ricocheted off the creature, and humans scattered left and right as various crates and equipment was blown from its pedestal.

The creature whipped its tail, fast as lightning, and knocked Megatron's legs out from under him.

He fell, cursing.

Mikaela bounded towards the creature, taking advantage of its distracted state, leaping onto its tail and gripping the metal spikes, crawling up its frame.

"It's head!" Megatron bellowed, wiping energon from his lips. "Hit it in the–"

The creature roared and swiped a claw that would have skewered Megatron in half, if it hadn't been for Optimus tackling him out of the way.

Both mechs righted themselves and leaped atop the monster, Optimus swinging from its jaw and shooting it in the eye. Sparks flew and Mikaela whooped in triumph as its optic clattered to the ground below.

"Trina!" She shouted. "The shock-stick!"

It was a plan doomed to fail, Mikaela knew. With enough electricity they could short out its systems, but to what extent? The creature must have had some sort of backup generator….

The monster roared and bucked Megatron off. He landed heavily on his back, and Mikaela heard a joint snap.

A roar of pain.

The creature flung its tail like a whip, Mikaela taking the full brunt of the blast and slamming into the wall. Her already aching legs screamed in protest as she jumped up and threw herself onto its back once more, this time, determined not to let go.

"Trina!" She screamed.

The girl ran, limping still, swinging the shock-stick above her head. The monster noticed her presence and swiped a claw to incapacitate her, but, using her small size as an advantage, dove to the floor, the claw passing inches above her head.

"Yeah!" Mikaela cried, triumphant.

Optimus, who was hanging from the creatures neck, scooped her into his arms and placed her upon the creature….

Just as it bucked and sent him flailing, crying out, towards the floor. The impact jarred the entire mine, but remarkably, Trina had managed to stay on.

Megatron caught another blow as the dragon swept its head back, slamming into Megatron and sending him cartwheeling through the air and into the ground. Mikaela saw it out of the corner of her eye and looked, wide eyed, as….

Energon erupted from his scarred chest. The old shock-stick wound had opened up again and he was staring, expression shocked, as the liquid seeped from his chassis.

"Megatron!" Mikaela shouted. "Optimus! Help him!"

Optimus was slowly getting to his feet, groaning.

"Trina, now!" Mikaela shouted. "Stab it now!"

The human was balancing on the monster's head, coughing as smoke curled from its nostrils. Sweat rolled down her neck, her face flushed, and she raised the shock-stick over her head….

"Now!" Mikaela shouted.

She drove the stick into its forehead, between its eyes.

The creature's reaction was instant. It roared and bucked, tendrils of electricity flowing through its writhing from. Trina was thrown from its head and she shouted out, falling towards the ground at a speed that would sure kill her….

She landed in Optimus' strong hands.

Mikaela have a sigh of relief, and then cursed as she, too, was thrown from the dragon.

She landed on her back, the air leaving her body, and then found herself staring into the crimson optics of….

"Goodbye, Starscream," Mikaela whispered. "Now, you can finally let go."

The creature slumped to the ground, and then did not move.

Silence.

The four of them lay there, Trina nestled in the palm of Optimus' hand, unconscious. Megatron was trying to stem the flow of energon from his chest, his optics blank, directed at the ceiling.

Mikaela stood, took a step, and then fell, fatigue overcoming her. Her vision was cloudy, disoriented. She could barely speak or move, watching as flames began to lick at the creature's body, casting an orange glow on everything in the mine.

She reached out and gently held Optimus' hand.

He gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Mikaela…."

She didn't see him. Barricade. The police cruiser was stumbling along, clutching his chassis. He fell to his knees before her, inching along, talons reaching towards her face and all he had to do was….

His head exploded in a burst of sparks, falling from his body.

Megatron, lying on his back, blaster raised, said, "Good riddance."


	29. Planet of Aliens

_**Last Chapter!**_

_**I don't own Transformers **_

* * *

><p><em>"Due to….complications, the Brotherhood of Man will officially be shut down."<em>

Mikaela, Optimus, and Trina stared at the screen, mouths twisted into a grimace. The news had gone viral, and one of Fisher's advisors was confirming the protestor's suspicions.

No one outside of N.E.S.T, other than the Decepticon's, knew what had actually happened. His body had been taken from the hallways of the mine and placed under government control. Mikaela had no idea what they were going to do with it, didn't really care, as long as it remained a corpse.

Nothing else.

The public thought he had been killed in some sort of freak accident, that his leadership, and his leadership alone was what made the Brotherhood great. Those were the ignorant, naïve morons. Every Brotherhood HQ had been invaded by federal troops, every person directly involved with Fisher's guard force having been captured, prosecuted, and jailed.

Barricade's body was also under government control, much to Optimus' distaste.

So now, there was nothing to do. Megatron was in the medical bay letting Ratchet fix his chest. Soundwave had been allowed to enter the base, acting as Megatron's proxy during each and every long, tedious meeting. They had met with everyone. Mearing. Morshower. Keller. That obnoxious bureaucrat, Galloway. Some people Mikaela hadn't seen in years.

"You know," Trina said, pressing the ice pack against her forehead, "I'm starting to feel like this concussion isn't so bad."

"Have you puked yet?"

"Several times."

"Then it's not getting better," Mikaela said, waggling a finger. "You're not the only one, Trina. Every member of the squad is feeling like crap, I'm sure. But it will get better."

She leaned up and gave Optimus a kiss on the cheek. Trina made an "aw….." noise and chuckled.

Optimus went and sat down on one of the Autobot sized chairs, staring at the vidscreens, expression solemn. He said, "Ratchet just informed me that Megatron is out of surgery."

"And you're upset about that why…..?" Trina asked.

"I am worried," he answered. "For his future. His faction's future. I don't want to continue this war, and neither does he…."

"He'll always be stirring up trouble," Mikaela said, shrugging. "Just not as monumental as some of his schemes….Hopefully."

"He can come and stay with me," Trina mumbled. "I mean, I got to know him pretty well when you dumped me out in the desert with him. He can be nice."

Mikaela immediately noticed the blush on her cheeks and said, "Oh, my God."

"What?"

"Do you have a thing for him?" Mikaela's mouth opened wide. "You do."

"I don't," Trina said, crossing her arms. "I absolutely do not have a thing for Megatron."

"You want him to become your guardian. Like Bumblebee is to Sam."

"No," Trina replied. _"You're_ my guardian, whether its unofficial or not."

Mikaela eased back, but glanced at her with skepticism. Trina, she noticed, was faring better than most of them. Her injuries seemed all healed and though Ratchet had informed her that her concussion was quite serious, she was up and about.

Mikaela's legs were aching still, as was her shoulder and stomach. Ratchet had patched those up. It was some sort of a miracle, he had said, that Optimus was the only one to come back relatively unscathed, save for a few dislocated joints.

He had also criticized them for their stupid behavior, but Mikaela had let that slide.

She sat down beside Optimus, resting her head on his shoulder. She said, "I'm tired of waiting."

"We all are," he said. "But we must be patient. The government must decide what to do with Megatron, where to send him."

"They can't contain him," Mikaela said. "Not when he helped us like he did. He risked his life to save someone else. That's a new high, even for him."

Optimus smiled. "I agree. But it is not in our place to decide his fate."

So, they waited.

* * *

><p>Three days later, it was decided.<p>

Mikaela had never been to the Kennedy Space Center, had never intended on going unless the time called for it. Like now.

They drove in a line, Optimus in the front, Mikaela behind, along with Ratchet and Ironhide. Arcee was there as well, along with several other Autobots. Megatron soared overhead, and then landed, jarring the asphalt. His chest was polished, no remnants of the scar left. As Optimus transformed, he watched the humans with a look of loathing, contempt…

And just a tad bit of respect.

Mikaela grinned, letting Trina hop out. Her ice pack was abandoned now, but her face looked like that of a prize fighter. The bruising had really set in.

She had hacked off another few inches of her hair, and now, it was colored a solid blue, with hints of red. Following Optimus' lead, Mikaela assumed with a smile. They were all peering up at the Autobot ship, at its ornate symbols and massive structure. It looked as if it hadn't been used in decades.

She whistled and said, "Holy shits and giggles," she stared up at the massive shuttle before them. "I remember Sideswipe telling me about this. The _Xanthium. _It brought in the second wave of Autobots."

Mikaela stepped beside her and said, "And now, it will take the rest of the Decepticon's into space…."

"Yes!" Megatron said loudly, raising his hands, staring at the ship with admiration. "The humans did something right. It's in top condition, it seems. Perfect for getting us off this wretched planet."

"But where will you go?" Trina asked.

"There are plenty of planets, _Trina_," he cooed, kneeling down and coming eye level with her. "That support life or perfect conditions for our species. We just simply have to find them."

He stood, standing and facing Mikaela, reaching out…..

"Don't you even think about it," she said.

"Let me try it."

"Optimus is right over there," she said. "He will ri–"

The kiss was sudden, lunging, and then ebbed away to gentleness. His talons held her face securely in his hands, trapping her, his lips soft despite their metal countenance.

He pulled away, and Mikaela cursed.

"Nice, isn't it?" He whispered, his breath like feathers against her ear.

_Nice. _Roadrunner commented.

He turned away, gesturing for Soundwave, Laserbeak, and Igor. The group looked pathetically small without Starscream, and Mikaela found herself wiping away a small tear at the thought of his death.

But it was alright. The government had the creature. Well, N.E.S.T had the creature.

They just had to figure out what to do with it….

Mikaela shook her head, watching as Megatron shot her a wink and then began to board the ship. But not until he glanced at Optimus and nodded, the silent exchange the only thing needed to seal the deal.

Mikaela approached him before he could close the door, calling up to him, "And you were right about Roadrunner. She does love you," she gave a hesitant pause and said, "And so do I."

He smiled, and then closed the door.

The minutes turned to an hour, and soon, they were watching the ship disappear into the atmosphere. They watched from a mile away, Trina sitting on Mikaela shoulder, leaning against her head.

She said, "I've never seen a shuttle launch before. Just on TV."

"Neither have I," Mikaela replied, feeling Optimus put on her shoulder. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Hell, yes."

Mikaela chuckled, peering up at the shifting clouds.

How had it all come down to this, she wondered? Her father was dead. Starscream was dead. Lennox, Epps, Jackson, Sanderson, and Graham. All dead. But for some reason, as she looked out at the Earth, she couldn't help but feel that her heart was full of joy.

Like it was so full of….freedom.

She was far from free, she knew. The Autobots would never be accepted fully into society. But they could still push for it, still fight for it. And they would.

Because now, this wasn't just a planet for humans, it was a planet for aliens, too. It was like the rules, the laws of physics, everything had changed. A monumental shift in the magnetic poles, and everyone had to deal with it, much less try and change it.

"So," Mikaela asked, feeling Optimus press a light kiss to the top of her head, "What do we do now?"

Mikaela peered into his optics, twisting, seeing Ratchet behind him and Ironhide standing beside Mearing, peering at Optimus as if they, too, wanted an answer. And they would get one.

He said, "We do what we do best," a smile. "We change the world."

Mikaela chuckled and nodded in understanding, watching the plume of white smoke where the shuttle had been moments before. Thinking about the past days events brought tears to her eyes and she wiped them away, knowing that this wasn't really the end of it all. She had her father's funeral to attend, as well as the funerals of Lennox, Epps, and all the others. Maybe, if Mearing and Optimus allowed it, they would hold a little ceremony for Starscream, too.

As for Fisher, she felt nothing but pity and sorrow. He had tried to change the world, make it in his image, despite the protest of everyone else. His dream had been fiction. Mikaela, sitting beside Optimus and lightly squeezing his hand, with Trina on her shoulder and Ratchet to her left, was fact. And for once, she wasn't bluffing. Queen of Deception? No, she preferred Queen of the Machines. And no matter how much Roadrunner loathed for Mikaela to admit it, she owed it to everyone. To Megatron, to Optimus, to Trina, Ratchet. Starscream. Her father.

It felt good, being the one to tell the truth.

* * *

><p><em><strong>There you have it! The end of the series! Really, I have to thank everyone for sticking with me this far. Two installments of a series is, like, my record. Anyway, I hope this ride was worth it – for me it sure was. I had so much fun writing all the characters and shaping the plot. That, and reading your wonderful reviews! Keep em' coming, because you are the reason I keep on writing.<strong>_

_**Over and out.**_


End file.
